


Hollow World

by bigboobedcanuck



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigboobedcanuck/pseuds/bigboobedcanuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m not going to the hospital. They’ll call the police.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“But…” Veronica wants to argue with this, but she can’t. She remembers Liam’s threats, but more than that, she remembers Lamb’s smirk that morning.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No one can find out about this.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“They won’t.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“God, they’d love it. No one can know.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Veronica jerks her head, a nod. The press would eat it up. Eat Logan alive.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You promise you won’t tell anyone?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She can feel his eyes on her. “I promise.” </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting my old fic from LJ here. Hoping the stories have aged well. :)
> 
> Set about a month after 211. It's a bit AU in that Logan is living at the beach house I mentioned in [Détente](http://archiveofourown.org/works/741642). 
> 
> Title is from [Top of the World](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQsa6IAyRQc) by James.  
>  __  
> The view from here's breathtaking  
>  My visions all surrounding  
> The humans look like insects  
> There is only one way down  
> But it's cold and lonely in this stratosphere  
> Gliding through the darkness  
> Where is my craft leading to  
> Am I damned or blessed?  
> Don't let go on top of the world  
> Don't let go on top of the world  
> Will my good friends desert me  
> Or will they prove themselves?  
> Are my demands all greedy  
> Or are they what I need?  
> If I will not be faithful  
> I must accept betrayal  
> When your turn comes to leave me  
> Will my free ways have failed?  
> Don't let go on top of the world  
> Don't let go on top of the world  
> I'll meet you inside this hollow world  
> I'll meet you inside  
> Hollow world, hollow world  
> It's a long way down  
> It's a long way down  
> And I'm so cold

_Thorncliff. No, that’s not right. Thornside._ “Crap!” Veronica slaps the steering wheel. 

Logan snaps to attention beside her. “What?”

She sighs irritably. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Oh really? What does it sound like?”

“Uh, like something.”

“And that’s your expert opinion?” Veronica’s not sure why she’s being so difficult.

“Christ, what’s your problem?”

The frustration that’s been building all night whips through her. “My problem? You want to know what my problem is?”

“Have you been keeping up with this conversation?”

“My problem is that I have an English midterm in—” she peers at the clock, the numbers glowing in the darkness, “—six hours. And I can’t remember the name of Jane Eyre’s stupid house.”

“Which one?”

“What do you mean, which one?”

“ _¿Hablas inglés_? Which one? The one she grew up in with her bitchy aunt or the one where Mr. Broody lived?”

“Mr. Broody. I think it’s Thorn-something.”

“Thornfield.”

Veronica looks at him, taking her eyes off the deserted highway. “How the hell do you know that?”

“What, I’m not allowed to study? I’ve got that midterm too, you know. I’m not going to get into college strictly on my good looks.” He smiles that arrogant-yet-charming smile that Veronica wishes he wouldn’t and she huffs out a laugh in spite of herself. Logan goes on, “Besides, with Duncan gone I don’t have much else to do. Despite his best efforts, Dick just doesn’t stack up in the best friend department.”

At the mention of Duncan’s name, Veronica’s smile fades and they drive on in silence. They’d gone out to the desert near the Mexican border for a meeting with a Fitzpatrick informant who said he could tell them more about the mysterious Curly Moran and identify who really killed Felix. But the stoolie never showed, and now they were going to have to wax poetic on the mad woman in the attic at Thorncrest — no, Thorn _field_ — on very little sleep and nothing to show for it.

Veronica rubs her neck and realizes that she hasn’t thought about Duncan in days. He’s been gone for over a month and the ache of missing him is starting to dull. She’s not sure what to think about that.

“So you’re telling me that Logan Echolls is spending nights with his nose stuck in his books?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Have you met you?”

“Watch out, we’re driving into a cliché.” Logan points out the windshield and Veronica sees the tumbleweed just in time to swerve around it.

“I saw it, but thanks for the backseat driving.”

“Hey, I would have happily been behind the wheel for this little excursion if all four of my tires hadn’t been slashed sometime between lunch and last period.” 

Veronica can’t really argue with that. 

“And for the record, I got 1500 on my PSATs.”

“You did not!” Veronica glances at him, incredulous.

“You wanna see the test results?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

“Well, unfortunately all my files were destroyed in the fire, but I’m sure the school keeps records.”

“Ah, how convenient.”

Logan’s tone is suddenly harsh. “Yeah, real convenient. Having my home burned to the ground fit in perfectly with my plans to fool you about my scholastic aptitude scores. Victory is mine.”

“I was kidding, relax.”

Logan waves his hand and makes a grumbling noise.

For some reason, she can’t let it go. “I still don’t believe you’re actually studying.”

“Man cannot live on surfing and video games alone.”

“Gosh, what about wild parties? I heard you threw quite the rager out at your new beach house.”

“Your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail,” he shrugs.

“Oh and you know how I love a good kegger. Curses, foiled again!” The wheel slips a bit in her hand as they hit a pot hole, and she tightens her grip. The curiosity she’s been battling finally gets the better of her. “Why’d you leave the hotel anyway?” 

At first she doesn’t think Logan’s going to answer, but then he quietly says, “He’s not coming back.”

She takes a breath and blows it out slowly. “No, he’s not.” 

“So what’s the plan? You running off to be with him after graduation?”

Veronica realizes she’s actually never thought about it. For a moment she does — white sand, blue water, Duncan and a little girl to call her own. It would be a good life. 

“Jesus, you are, aren’t you?” Logan stares at her with an expression she can’t decipher.

“No, I was just thinking. I’m not. Going to meet him.” She clears her throat. “So, back to your newfound intellect…”

“Yeah well, aside from one housewarming party that resulted in vomit stains on my new carpet, I haven’t been entertaining much of late.”

“Instead you’ve been dedicating yourself to your studies, pretending that you’re not just going to buy your way into college like the rest of the ’09ers anyway.”

“Here we go. Different verse, same as the first.”

“Oh, am I wrong?”

“Would it even matter if you were? You’re still going to be a bitch about it.”

Veronica smiles faux-sweetly. “You know me so well, Logan.” 

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t.” 

“The feeling’s mutual.” 

Logan looks out his window and silence settles again, uneasy this time. They’d been getting along today, but their truces are easily snapped. Veronica taps the wheel in a staccato rhythm, wishing she could just drop him off on the side of the road. Next time she thinks about lying to her dad and driving out to the middle of nowhere on a wild goose chase to save Logan’s sorry ass, she has to think twice.

Veronica is reaching for the stereo when headlights suddenly flare in her rearview mirror. The pick-up truck gains ground, the lights fast becoming blinding.

“Whoa, where the hell did he come from?” Logan asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Must have had his lights off.” Veronica’s about to note that this is most likely not a good thing as another set of headlights blaze to life up the road, bearing down on them. “Oh, fuck.”

Ambush.

“Shit, what the hell are we gonna do?” Logan looks at her desperately, like she’s got the answers.

“Hope Weevil’s uncle gave the suspension a good tune-up last week,” she says as she jerks the wheel to the right and they go rattling over the shoulder and into the desert, the car practically flying over the bumps and gullies in its path. 

“Fuck, the one time I could actually use the Xterra for the purpose it was built.” Logan’s voice is thin and high and he grasps the dash as they hit a big bump. 

The two sets of lights follow, one vehicle still heading them off despite Veronica’s best efforts to outrun it into the inky dark of the desert. She swerves to avoid a cactus and they dip precipitously into a ditch, the undercarriage scraping on the rock as they come over the other side. 

She steps on the gas and they continue out into the void, the quarter moon casting little light on the barren landscape. Veronica considers dousing her headlights to try to escape into the darkness, but as the tires spin over some loose clay she knows that the others are too close.

The beams in front of them grow nearer, and as they crash and bump over another gully, Veronica realizes that the trusty LeBaron isn’t going to win this time. The pick-up nudges her bumper, and then it’s a choice between slamming into a cactus or the other vehicle coming towards them, which turns out to be a huge black SUV. She slams on the brakes and they skid to a halt, the prickly spines of the cactus scraping against Logan’s door. 

They look at each other for a long moment, eyes wide, breathing harsh. “Veronica…” Logan reaches for her, but the door is opening and rough hands drag her into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica’s surrounded by blinding lights and a clamour of shouts she can’t make out. Her head spins — no wait, maybe her body is spinning, hands shoving her from one person to the next until she’s on the ground, small rocks digging into her knees through the thin material of her jeans.

She blinks up at the figures towering above her, backlit by headlights piercing the blackness. Their faces are obscured by ski masks, and as her heart pounds in her ears, Veronica tries to focus, tries to process. Ski masks, ski masks…good. Ski masks are good. Ski masks mean maybe they’re not going to kill her, not going to leave her body in a shallow grave for nobody to find. 

She chokes back a sob and Logan’s shouted curse reminds her that she’s not alone. Moments later he’s shoved to the ground beside her. He gets on his knees and presses his shoulder against hers, welcome warmth in the chill of the desert night.

“Hands on your head,” the leader intones. Liam Fitzpatrick? Veronica can’t be sure. She and Logan follow orders, and soon two flunkies are patting them down for weapons. As the man’s hands move around her body, she swallows back the bile rising in her throat.

“All clear,” he says. The other minion nods and Veronica and Logan lower their arms. Veronica wants desperately to reach for Logan’s hand, but she can’t betray any sign of weakness. Her fingers curl into fists as she glances around at the others — five men, maybe six. They keep moving, pacing around Logan and Veronica like animals around their prey. 

Maybe-Liam stares down at them, letting the silence stretch out like a tightrope. Finally he says, “Veronica Mars. And Logan Echolls. You should have known better than to stick your noses where they didn’t belong. Especially you, princess. It’s time you learned a lesson.”

Sick fear churns her stomach and thoughts of Lilly ricochet through her mind. Pale skin and hair matted with blood, wide eyes unseeing. Veronica’s not ready. She wants to cry and scream and run, but she doesn’t move.

Suddenly she’s yanked to her feet and her cheek meets the hood of the LeBaron, the engine still warm beneath her stomach. Liam — she’s decided it’s him — presses up behind her, his hands roaming over her, squeezing her breasts painfully. 

“No! Leave her alone! Don’t you fucking touch her.” Logan’s voice rings out, sharp and authoritative. 

Liam laughs, a grating sound. “Let me think about it.” His hands still move, fingers twisting and pinching. “Hmm. You know, I’ve considered it, but I’m afraid I can’t comply with your request. Miss Mars needs a lesson in minding her own business.” He lifts her up enough so he can undo her belt buckle and a gasp escapes Veronica’s lips as she feels him grow hard against her. 

“No! Please! Look, I’ll do anything. What do you want, money? I’ll give you money, I’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt her,” Logan pleads.

Liam unzips Veronica’s jeans, jerking them down around her hips as Veronica struggles for air, panic closing her lungs. From her position on the hood of the car, Veronica can still see Logan and she wishes she could turn her head, be alone. But Liam’s hand is firm on the back of her neck.

“Oh don’t worry, lover boy. I won’t hurt her. I’ll make it real good.” Liam leans close to Veronica’s ear and his tongue snakes out to lick her cheek. It’s like wet sandpaper and Veronica wants to scream.

“Please! Stop! I have money, lots of money. And we’ll stay out of your business, I swear. I’ll do anything. Just stop.” Logan gestures with his hands, shouting. 

Liam caresses Veronica’s hair and there’s something new in his voice as he asks, “Anything?”

“Yes. Anything. Just don’t hurt her.”

“You mean that?” Liam’s contemplative.

“Yes. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Chuckling, Liam suddenly releases Veronica and steps back. She staggers away from him, zipping her pants up as she rejoins Logan on the ground. Relief courses through her veins and she sucks in a deep breath, lungs burning. Logan’s arms move around her, heavy and reassuring as he pulls her tightly to his side. She leans into him, grateful.

But then he’s gone — hauled up onto his feet, and Veronica pitches over, palms scraping on the hard grit as she catches herself. Liam regards Logan silently as everyone waits to see what will happen next, the minions all frozen in place. Liam says, “You really sure you’re willing to do anything?”

Logan nods. “I told you man, whatever it takes. Look, I’ll go to the bank first thing, okay?”

“I don’t want your money, rich boy,” Liam laughs, and then everything is a blur as he throws Logan down face first on the LeBaron’s hood. “It’s you or her. Make your choice.”

“What?” Veronica can’t stop the almost-scream that comes from her mouth. Panic floods her senses again and she half-rises to her feet before she’s shoved back down to her knees.

“Make. Your. Choice.” Liam decrees.

Veronica’s mind spins wildly. _He can’t really be saying what he’s saying, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t…._

As Veronica’s breath freezes in her chest, Logan’s eyes meet hers for a long beat. Then he looks away and says one word, his voice unwavering. “Me.”

“No!” Tears stream down Veronica’s face as Liam wrenches Logan’s pants down before opening his own. The rest of the gang hoot and holler, and Liam wastes no time with his first vicious thrust. Logan cries out just once before turning his face down, eyes screwed shut. Liam pounds into him, grasping Logan’s hips brutally. 

Veronica can’t hear her own cries, only the raucous laughter of the Fitzpatricks. Shivering, she wraps her arms around herself and prays that this is a terrible, terrible nightmare. It seems to go on forever, and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

No. She forces herself to open them again. Can’t abandon him. Won’t.

Finally Liam tips his head back and shouts victoriously, his body shuddering. The rest of the gang still whoop it up, cheering on the proceedings like they’re fans at a football game. One of them high-fives Liam, who does his pants up, cackling. He smacks Logan’s bare skin and asks, “Who’s next?” 

“No! Enough!” Veronica barely recognizes her own voice. 

Abruptly, one of the Fitzpatricks whistles for attention as he points into the distance. “Might be cops. Time to go.” 

Veronica cranes her head, and as one of the men moves back to the pick-up truck, she sees the headlights on the highway. One of the Fitzpatricks reaches into the LeBaron, turning the lights off as the others follow suit in their own vehicles. Right before they’re plunged into darkness, Veronica watches Logan collapse to the ground. 

“Well, I guess it’s your lucky night,” Liam declares. Veronica focuses on his shadowy figure as the rest of the gang climb into their trucks. “Now I know you won’t go doing anything foolish like talking to the police. I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen to that little nigger you’re so fond of. And your father, he’s in a dangerous line of work. Who knows when he might end up with a bullet in his brain?”

“We won’t talk,” Veronica grits out.

“Now is that a promise?”

“Yes.” She wipes the tears from her face jerkily. 

“Be good girls and boys and we won’t have a problem.” With that, Liam hops into the SUV and the Fitzpatricks are gone, lights still off as they drive back towards the highway. The pick-up goes the opposite direction and soon the only sound Veronica hears is her own ragged breathing. The darkness envelops her, and for a moment, there is nothing.

A soft moan from Logan jolts her into action and Veronica rushes to where he’s crumpled on the ground, leaning against the side of the car. He’s trying to button his pants, fingers shaking, breathing shallow. Veronica reaches for his hands but he jerks away. 

“I’m fine,” he rasps out. Blood drips out of his nose and he doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Logan…” She doesn’t know what to say. What can she say? 

He spits on the ground and moves to his knees, bracing himself on the car to stand up as Veronica hovers nearby uncertainly. She opens the door, and since the passenger side is blocked by the cactus, Logan climbs in past the steering wheel. 

“You can go in the back if you want. Lie down.” Veronica tries to keep her voice calm and even. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. She can handle this.

Logan just shakes his head and curls up against his door, resting on his hip. Veronica gets in and reaches for the keys, but the ignition is empty. Her heart skips a beat and she feels around on the floor, praying one of the Fitzpatricks didn’t take the keys. When her fingers close over metal, she’s able to breathe again.

She twists the key and the engine turns over. For a second she can’t think of what to do next, but then she remembers — put the car in drive. She does, and although there’s a new rattling noise, the car seems in good shape as she heads slowly back to the highway. The terrain is uneven and she grips the wheel, grazed palms throbbing. Logan is silent but for his jagged breathing. The road is deserted once more, much to Veronica’s relief. She drives mechanically back towards Neptune, hypnotized by the lines on the road, the shadows rushing by. 

Home has never seemed so far away. 

Logan suddenly seems to choke and he coughs violently, his shoulders shaking. “Are you okay?” Veronica reaches out, but stops just short of touching him. Instead she opens the tepid bottle of water that has been in the car all night, but is better than nothing. She presses it into his hand and he swallows a few times, the coughs easing off. 

Neptune finally nears. As Veronica takes the second exit in town, Logan quietly asks, “Where are you going?”

“To the hospital.”

“What?” He turns towards her, wincing sharply. “I’m not going to the hospital. Take me home.”

“Logan, you have to go to the hospital. He…he hurt you. There could be internal injuries.”

“I’m fine. Take me home.”

Veronica softens her voice, tries to sound reassuring. “Logan—”

“Don’t! Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m going home, Veronica. If you don’t want to drive me, I’ll take a cab.” Logan’s voice is uneven, raw. 

“But you’re hurt. I just want to help you.” Tears prick at her eyes and Veronica blinks rapidly.

“I’m not going to the hospital. They’ll call the police.”

“But…” Veronica wants to argue with this, but she can’t. She remembers Liam’s threats, but more than that, she remembers Lamb’s smirk that morning. 

“No one can find out about this.”

“They won’t.”

“God, they’d love it. No one can know.”

Veronica jerks her head, a nod. The press would eat it up. Eat Logan alive.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

She can feel his eyes on her. “I promise.” 

He seems satisfied and turns away again, pressing his forehead against the window. The sun is rising when she turns into his driveway, following it to the small, secluded bungalow that Logan now calls home. She kills the engine and it makes a clunk as it fades out. In the early morning light, Veronica can see the waves crashing on the beach and seagulls caw as they wake. It looks like it will be a beautiful day. 

Logan opens his door. “Thanks for the ride. See ya.”

“Logan, I’m not leaving.” Veronica almost wants to laugh. Almost.

“You’ve got a midterm in three hours.”

“How are we having this conversation?”

He glances at her with deadened eyes. “I’m fine.” 

“Stop saying that!” Her voice is suddenly piercing and tears threaten again. With a deep breath she gets out of the car, waiting for Logan to do the same. When he does, she tries not to flinch at the way he shuffles towards the house, every step pained. She wants to help him but stays a few feet back, hands clenched at her sides.

Inside, he moves straight towards the master bedroom, and soon Veronica hears the shower running. She hangs back in the hallway, trying to give him his space, his privacy. She wanders around the house, which is still mostly bare. For a moment she wonders where all Logan’s boxes are, before she remembers that he doesn’t have any, that everything he had was burned beyond recognition. 

Veronica looks down and realizes that her belt is still hanging open uselessly. She tries to do it up, but her hands sting and her fingers won’t work. Finally she just pulls it free of her belt loops and drops it in the kitchen trash — the only garbage can she can find. 

There’s a couch in the living room, and eventually she sits down and stares at the dark screen of the TV. Video game cords run across the floor and controllers lie carelessly at her feet. The minutes tick by.

She checks her watch and when it’s been twenty minutes, the worry gnawing at her bites harder. Logan’s bedroom door is open, and she glances around at the disarray, the duvet sliding off the bed, clothing piled on the floor. She raps softly on the bathroom door, then harder when there’s no reply.

The water drones on and she knocks harder still. What if he fell? What if he hit his head and is drowning right now? “Logan?” Her knuckles strike the door again. “Logan, are you okay? Just say something.”

The hum of the water is merciless. “Logan? Answer me!” When he doesn’t, Veronica twists the doorknob, which doesn’t give way. “Shit!” She digs in her empty pockets before sprinting to her car and grabbing her purse. She dumps it on the floor in the bedroom, cursing as she realizes her lock-picking kit is absent.

An errant bobby pin grabs her attention and she crawls quickly to the door, jiggering the lock mechanism until it opens with a click. The steam is thick, the mirror completely fogged, bathroom cloudy. “Logan?”

A movement catches her eye and she squints, making out his huddled form on the bottom of the bathtub through the opaque shower curtain. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” he snaps, voice trembling. 

“I, I was worried,” she stammers. “You’ve been in here a really long time and you wouldn’t answer.” 

His reply is weary. “Maybe that’s because I want to be alone.” 

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.” 

He laughs then, and Veronica cringes at the hollow sound. “It’s a little late for that.” 

There’s nothing to say and she pulls the door shut behind her, leaving it open just an inch. She perches on the edge of his bed and bites her tongue until she tastes blood. Anything to stop the tears that won’t do him a damn bit of good. 

Logan must finally drain the hot water tank a few minutes later because the shower finally stops. She springs up, guilty. She debates going back to the living room, but instead lingers just inside the door of his bedroom. 

Finally he emerges, wrapped in a bathrobe cinched tightly at his waist. She can see the effort he makes to pretend there’s nothing wrong as he moves to the bed. “I’m going to sleep now. You can let yourself out.” 

“Do you have any Advil or anything? You know, for…. It’s better than nothing. I have some in my purse—” She’s suddenly aware that the contents of the purse are still strewn across the bedroom floor and kneels quickly to pick everything up. She finds the Advil bottle and grimaces as she tries to open it. Blood speckles her palms, tiny rocks still imbedded there. 

“Are you okay?”

Veronica can only stare up at him, convinced he’s joking, that he can’t possibly be concerned about her cuts and bruises. Yet she can see it in his frown. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. 

Finally Logan turns away and goes back into the bathroom, returning with a pill bottle. His lips twist up in an imitation of a smile. “Don’t bother anyway. No medicine cabinet’s complete without Percocet.”

Veronica clambers to her feet, purse jammed under her arm. “That’s kind of strong, isn’t it?”

Logan shrugs as he taps two pills into his hand and swallows them dry, his chin lifting to the ceiling. “I’m my mother’s son. I was probably weaned on it.” He lowers himself to the bed and pulls the duvet up, curling tightly on his side, his face now hidden from her. “Like I said, you can let yourself out.” 

Veronica gives up and closes the bedroom door behind her gently. Her bag thuds to the carpet and she stands in the hallway, waiting for something else to happen. Without the water running, the house is quiet. Too quiet. She peers at the bare walls, the discolouration where pictures of another family used to hang. 

A sob escapes her throat, and she wants to run, run, run and never look back. She could get in her car and drive home, wake her dad up and let him hold her tight. Tell him everything, let him make everything okay. It would be so easy. 

Veronica leans against the wall and slides to the floor, arms wrapping around her knees tightly. She closes her eyes, and stays.


	3. Chapter 3

A loud ringing permeates Veronica’s consciousness and she opens her eyes, disoriented. A thick carpet rests under her cheek and for a moment, she doesn’t remember. Then it all rushes back in a dizzying blur, her stomach sinking like a stone. Stiff limbs protest as she sits up and reaches for her bag, pulling her phone out just the shrill noise stops.

As Veronica waits to see if there’s a message, she glances at the time. Just before noon. She’s not sure when she fell asleep, but she vaguely remembers closing her eyes just for a few minutes. The bedroom door opens and Logan looks down at her, his hair standing up in disarray, robe still wrapped tightly around his body.

“There’s a perfectly good couch, you know.”

“Yeah, I just….” She trails off and stands up, smoothing down her hair. “How are you feeling?” The words are out before she can call them back and she sees the shutters come down over his eyes.

“Fine.” He shuffles off to the kitchen, his gait slow and clearly pained. Veronica lets him go, and listens to her message.

“Hey honey, it’s Dad. Hope you and Mac got a lot of work done on your project last night. I just got a call on a bail jumper, so I’m off to Arizona. You know how it is: easy money. I might not be back for a few days, but I’ll check in. Be good.” 

Guilt flares and Veronica’s face flushes as she hangs up. Her father’s right not to trust her. What was she thinking, going out to the middle of nowhere to meet an informant? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She thought she could handle anything. Thought she was so tough.

Her eyes water and she ducks into the bathroom near the foyer. Cold water refreshes her a bit, but she still winces at her reflection in the mirror. She looks like she feels, which is not good. She goes to work cleaning up her abraded palms, gently trying to dig the grit out. The bathroom is bare except for an empty roll of toilet paper, and she goes back to her purse for bandaids. The shower is running again in the master bathroom, and this time Veronica stays away. Gives him the privacy he needs.

The sound of the running water makes her yearn for a shower of her own, reminds her that her skin crawls. She needs to go home and get some clothes anyway, and considers just leaving him a note. But worry still gnaws and she can’t leave until the water stops and she can hear him moving around.

She calls from the hall, “Logan?”

After a beat, he answers. “That’s my name.”

“I’ve just got to go home to get some stuff, okay?”

“I told you to go home hours ago. You don’t need to come back and babysit.” 

She opens her mouth to argue, but decides not to waste her breath. She’s coming back. He knows it, and she knows it. 

Wallace calls on the drive home, and Veronica tries not to lie to him too much. “I had to play hooky to work on a case. I totally forgot about that midterm.”

“You _forgot_?” Veronica hears a distinct note of suspicion in Wallace’s voice.

“Yes, I forgot. I’ll get a doctor’s note and make it up. It’s no big deal.”

“It is if you want to win that scholarship.”

Ah yes, the Kane Scholarship. Veronica imagines the look on Celeste’s face if she won it. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll be collecting on that one.”

“Everything okay, Veronica?” 

Even though he can’t see her, she fakes a smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Hey, how was the big dinner with Jane?”

“My game was _on_. I’ve got that girl wrapped around my little finger, V. I am the man.”

“Yeah you are! I’d give you a complicated high-five if you were here right now,” she laughs. “So you really like her, huh?”

“Ah, man. Why do you have to go get girly on me? Yeah, yeah, I like her, okay? Do you want me to come over and braid your hair while I tell you all about how her smile makes my stomach flutter?”

“Maybe tomorrow, my dance card is full tonight.” Not really a lie.

“Got big plans for the weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m working on that case. I’ll be on stakeout most of the time. You try to have some fun for me, okay?” 

“Okay. Later, Veronica. See you Monday.”

“See ya.” Veronica tells herself that she’s keeping her promise to Logan, that she’s just doing what she has to do. Even if it means lying to her best friend.

The water stays hot long enough to have a decent shower. The memory of Liam’s hands on her is hard to scrub away, but she tries her best. On the way back to the beach she stops at Cho’s for a large pepperoni and spring rolls, which makes Backup salivate and stare at her pleadingly.

Logan’s front door is locked, so Veronica rings the bell. The seconds tick by and her finger is poised to push the button again when she sees movement beyond the frosted glass panels beside the door. Logan opens it and sighs heavily. He’s gotten dressed — cargo pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt with sleeves that hang past his wrists. He’s about to say something when he notices Backup, who nuzzles Logan’s hand enthusiastically and moves in for some attention.

“Hey boy,” Logan says as he scratches Backup’s head.

“I didn’t see much food in the kitchen, so….” Veronica indicates the pizza box in her hand.

“I’m not really hungry.” Logan turns away, Backup at his heels as he heads into the living room. “But thanks,” he adds.

Veronica closes the door behind her, locking it. She tosses her overnight bag on the floor and follows into the living room. There’s no coffee table, so she puts the pizza box on the floor, the spring rolls and napkins in a paper bag stapled shut with a menu. 

“There’s beer in the fridge.” Logan tips his own bottle back after he sits down gingerly. 

After a moment, Veronica realizes she’s staring and quickly heads to the fridge. Normally she wouldn’t drink — well, ever — but certainly not in the afternoon. But normal isn’t a word that has meant anything for a long, long time. 

*

They’ve watched more TV in an afternoon than Veronica has in weeks. Ellen DeGeneres dancing spastically with an audience member who looks like she’s having a religious experience; an epidemic of monkey flu on _General Hospital_ ; Ross and Rachel on a break. Veronica yawns. She’s curled up on one end of the big couch, Backup taking up the space between her and Logan, sprawled against the cushions. Logan sips on yet another beer, but doesn’t seem affected by the alcohol. He stares at the TV blankly and hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Are you hungry? We could order something in for dinner.” Veronica’s voice seems too loud. 

He shrugs, eyes still glued to the TV. “I’m not hungry. But you can get whatever you want.”

Truth is, Veronica’s not hungry, either. The pizza from a couple of hours ago is still sitting in her stomach like a rock. She tries to think of something else that she can say to Logan that doesn’t involve the large, pink elephant standing in the middle of the room, blocking her view of the TV. 

She comes up empty.

The sun sets, and they remain where they are, the blue light of the TV casting ghostly shadows. Once in a while one of them will get up, but neither bothers to flick on the lamp standing in the corner. They watch a bad movie which seems to be about nothing more than blowing up anything flammable. 

The phone rings, and Logan reaches down for the cordless near his feet. He looks at the display and sighs before answering. “Hey, Dick.” 

Veronica can hear Dick talking about hot chicks and body shots, and she feels a wave of nausea. Logan listens, trying to interrupt before he finally says, “Dude, I’m heading out of town. Yeah, last minute thing. Gonna go visit my sister and party in San Fran. Yeah, I’ll be back for school. Have fun this weekend, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He hangs up and goes back to watching TV.

“San Fran, huh?”

“If I tell him I’m sick, he’ll just bring over a bunch of freshmen girls to make me feel better. Dick doesn’t like taking no for an answer.”

Veronica thinks of paper lanterns and a plastic cup, sweet liquid sliding down her throat. “No, he doesn’t.”

It’s not long before Logan starts to nod off, and Veronica’s sure he took some more Percocet last time he was up. The movie drones on, but she watches Logan instead, his head tipped back, lips parted. She can’t think of when she’s seen him look quite so unguarded. 

As if he can hear her thoughts, he suddenly wakes, blinking at her suspiciously as he sits up straighter. She swivels her gaze back to the TV, but it’s too late. She knows his eyes are on her, but doesn’t dare look back. 

He gets up slowly and comes back a minute later with a blanket and pillow that must be the extra one from his bed. He leaves them on the couch and scratches Backup’s head briefly before going back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Veronica flicks channels before giving up and trying to sleep. To her surprise, she finds her eyes closing easily, jumbled thoughts swirling around her brain as she drifts away. Backup shares the couch with her, warm and comforting. 

*

The desert is cold, and her breath mists in front of her face. There are no headlights this night, but the moon shines brightly overhead, illuminating the barren landscape. Veronica spins slowly, eyes searching, yet he’s nowhere to be seen. She calls Logan’s name, but only a gust of wind answers. 

She stumbles as she tries to walk, her legs collapsing beneath her each time she tries to move. She gets to her feet, only to find herself on the ground again, legs folded. She tries over and over, and when she wants to cry with frustration, a thick tongue suddenly sweeps up across her cheek. Harsh breathing echoes in her ear and she squirms away, a scream lodged in her throat.

Veronica opens her eyes with a jolt, pulse racing. Backup licks her again before barking softly. He stands beside the couch, waiting. 

“What is it? You need to go out?” Veronica realizes with a pang of guilt that she didn’t take Backup for his evening walk. 

Backup barks again, and something in the tone makes the hair on Veronica’s arms stand up. “Is everything okay?” He waits for her to follow, and in the kitchen Veronica immediately sees that the back door stands a few inches ajar. A bolt of fear shoots through her, but she quickly remembers that if there was an intruder, Backup would have the person by the throat.

Logan’s room is empty and soon she’s outside, the sand gritty beneath her bare feet as she races to the water’s edge, Backup in the lead. The wind whips her hair back and the ocean churns. “Logan!” She knows that if he was just going for a walk down the beach, Backup would have taken her there. He barks sharply and nuzzles something in the sand that Veronica can’t quite make out in the darkness. 

Her fingers close over the thin material of the shirt Logan was wearing earlier. The waves crash onto the sand and Veronica digs in her feet as she wades out, her wet jeans heavy on her legs. “Logan!” She screams his name over and over as the water soars to her chest.

The sea is a wall of blackness, rising and falling around her. Backup’s loud barks are lost as a wave comes out of nowhere and swallows her whole. The force of the water flips her over and for a terrifying moment she doesn’t know which way is up. Her lungs burn and when she breaks the surface there’s only time for a quick gulp of air before another wave is upon her. 

She’s pushed towards the beach and a hand locks on her arm, pulling her into the shallow surf. “What the hell are you doing?” Logan shouts.

Veronica coughs and blinks up at him as Backup circles around them, still barking. “What am _I_ doing? What the hell are _you_ doing?”

“I felt like a swim.” Logan’s skin glistens and even in the murk she can see the bruises Liam left on his chest.

Veronica struggles to her feet, shaking off Logan’s hand when he tries to help. “A swim? A _swim_? It’s the middle of the goddamned night!”

He shrugs. “I woke up and felt like some air.”

“I thought you were drowning! Jesus, Logan.”

“Hey, I can swim. I’ve surfed on way bigger waves than these. You’re the one who almost got herself drowned!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to save your life.”

“I don’t need you to save me, Veronica!” Suddenly he’s furious. “I’m fine, okay? I’m fine!”

Logan turns on his heel and stalks back towards the house as Backup howls. Veronica knows he’s trying not to limp, and she takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly to stop the tears. Anger and relief go to war, relief ultimately winning. Shivering, she hugs herself as she trudges up the beach. On the back deck, she tries to brush the sand off Backup as best she can before going inside. 

The shower is running again in Logan’s room and Veronica heads straight to the guest bathroom, grabbing her duffel bag on the way. The hot water massages her skin and she notices some of her own bruises match Logan’s. 

All is quiet when she emerges. She returns to the couch and curls under the blanket as Backup snuggles close and peers at her with concern, lapping her hand gently as she tries to fall asleep once more. She stares at the ceiling, hoping she won’t dream again.

*

“Hey, sweetheart. How was your midterm?”

“Fine,” Veronica lies. She makes a mental note to create fake doctor’s notes for both her and Logan. “How’s the bail jumper?”

“Still evading me, unfortunately. This one’s a slippery son of a gun.”

The sounds of Saturday morning cartoons emanate from the living room and Veronica wanders further down the hall. “Don’t worry, Keith Mars always gets his man.” 

“You know it. Who’s—”

“Hey, I thought we had an agreement! Do not finish that sentence.”

“Oh, all right. I’d better go, you be good and hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

Veronica’s suddenly choked up and she swallows thickly. “Love you too, Dad.” She hangs up before her voice can betray her any more. The door to Logan’s room stands open and sunlight streams in through the big picture windows looking out over the ocean. She hadn’t really noticed before just how nice the bungalow is. Small and surprisingly simple, for someone who drives a yellow monstrosity of a vehicle.

For a moment she wonders how things would have turned out if Logan’s tires hadn’t been slashed, but she mentally shakes the thought away. Pointless. Pocketing her phone, she returns to her spot on the couch. Backup’s head rests on Logan’s thigh and Logan pets him, vacant eyes on the TV.

“So.” Veronica can’t just zombie out in front of the TV and pretend nothing’s wrong.

“What?” Logan’s edgy.

“I was just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Maybe we could go…somewhere.” Okay, so she hasn’t exactly thought this through.

“Sounds enticing, but I think I’ll pass.” As a commercial comes on, he flicks to another cartoon.

“We can’t just sit here, Logan.”

“I can. You’re free to do whatever your little heart desires.”

“Would you just…say something?” Veronica sits up and tries to divert his attention from the screen. “Anything?”

He sighs, and flicks the channel again. “There’s nothing to say, Veronica.”

“Look, why don’t we just—”

“I already said you do whatever you want to do.” His tone brooks no argument.

Veronica sits back and watches the Powerpuff Girls fight crime. The resolve that has been growing inside her gains momentum and she realizes what she wants to do. She can’t just sit here, useless. Not when Liam and the Fitzpatricks are out there, going on with their lives like nothing happened. She remembers the echo of their laughter and imagines them now — playing pool and chugging beer, a new story to tell their friends.

Veronica knows what she wants. The one thing she can give that will help Logan.

Revenge.


	4. Chapter 4

Veronica dips an ice-cold fry into the blob of ketchup on her plate. She’s been pushing her food around for the last twenty minutes, and her attention wanders again to where Logan sits across the patio. He laughs at something Dick says, and it all seems perfectly normal. 

“So when are you going to tell me?”

Veronica blinks and finds Wallace watching her with a troubled gaze. “Huh?”

“I said, when are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” She smiles in a way she hopes appears genuine. 

“About you and pasty rich boy over there.”

“Who, Logan?”

Wallace rolls his eyes. “Yeah, _Logan_. "You know, the guy you've been staring at all week when you think I'm not looking. You must think I’m blind, Veronica. Or maybe stupid.”

Crap. Wallace isn’t curious, he’s mad. “Wallace, I’m not dating Logan again.” It’s the truth, which will hopefully count for something.

“Okay, so you definitely think I’m stupid.”

“No! Wallace, I’m telling you the truth. Logan and I aren’t dating, okay?”

“Okay.” He still looks skeptical and maybe a bit hurt. “Then what? What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, because I know you too well.”

Veronica sighs and drops her fry back on her plate. “Look, Wallace…there’s a case I’m working on and Logan’s involved. He’s having a hard time lately and I’m just trying to be his friend.” Again, not a lie. Not really.

“So that’s why you’ve been so distracted this week? So jumpy?”

“I’m not jumpy.” Is she?

“Sure, and Madison Sinclair is just as sweet as grandma’s apple pie.”

“Fine, so maybe I’m a bit jumpy. I’m distracted, I guess. Sorry.” She smiles and attempts to change the subject. “So how’s Jane?” 

“Jane’s fine.”

“But is she super-fine? Because I think she just might be.”

Wallace smiles, much to Veronica’s relief. “Yeah, she’s super-fine. Things are good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And I promise I’ll try to be less spacey, okay?”

“I’m just worried about you, Veronica. I know something’s going on. And last time something was going on with you, it was pretty heavy stuff.” 

“Yeah, you could say that. But hey, at least Duncan didn’t turn out to be my brother after all. Of course now he’s ridden off into the sunset with another woman. Just my luck.” 

“Why do you always have to make jokes about stuff like this?” 

“Because if I didn’t laugh, I’d be crying all the time.” She smiles and socks Wallace in the shoulder. “Now tell me more about Jane. You hittin’ that?”

“Oh you did _not_ just say that,” Wallace laughs. 

The tension lifts, and although Veronica knows it’s only temporary, it’s a nice feeling. They finish their lunch — well, Wallace finishes his — and Veronica spends the afternoon trying not to stare at Logan when their paths cross. In history class he glares over his shoulder, as if he can feel her eyes on his back. 

The final bell rings and Veronica practically has to sprint to catch up to him in the hall. She grasps his arm and says, “Logan,” since she can’t think of anything else.

He slides his arm free easily. “Veronica. What a surprise. Can you stalk me later? I’m in a hurry.” 

Dick and some of his 09er cronies slime up. “Aw, Logan, give the skank, I mean _the girl_ , a break. She’s obviously desperate for you. Why don’t you throw her a _bone_.” Dick cackles at his own joke, the others joining in.

Logan’s anger is so sudden that even Veronica jerks in surprise as he slams Dick up against the lockers. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up!” Dick’s too stunned to even fight back, and finally Logan loosens his grip and steps away, breathing heavily. 

“What the hell, man! You’ve been acting like a freak all week.” Dick straightens his shirt, scowling.

“Shut up!” Veronica snaps. Logan leaves without another word, and she hurries after him as he walks to his car. 

As he opens the Xterra door, he looks at her for a long moment. “You’re not helping.” 

Veronica watches him drive away before she turns and heads back inside.

*

The next morning her alarm goes off at 6:30, but she doesn’t allow herself to press the snooze button even once. As she’s drying her hair, her father appears in the mirror, making her jump just a bit before she switches the blow dryer off.

Keith smiles. “Hey honey. I knocked, but I guess you couldn’t hear me.”

“Nope. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“You were?” She smiles, and tries to look like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“You’ve been getting up awfully early this week. I’ve barely seen you for breakfast.”

“Oh yeah, it’s the school paper. We’re putting in some extra time for an anniversary edition. Go Pirates.” 

“Right. I know how filled with school pride you are.”

“Hey, it’s never too late, Dad.”

“No, I guess not. I just feel like I never see you anymore. You’ve been…distracted lately. Everything okay?” He looks at her with concern that makes Veronica feel like a terrible, terrible daughter.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Really, Dad. You don’t need to worry.”

“Okay.” Keith leans in and kisses her forehead gently. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“Yep, unless something school-related comes up. But I doubt it will. Dinner sounds great. You can make me your world-famous lasagna.”

“I could, but I believe it’s dessert for dinner night.”

“Mmmm, brownies and ice cream, here I come.” 

When her father is gone, Veronica’s smile fades. She wants him to trust her again so much, but she’s not sure he should.

The sun is shining by the time Veronica pulls up to Logan’s house, but she doesn’t stop to look at the ocean, the water shimmering under a bright blue sky. Instead, she rings the doorbell and waits. Every morning she’s been here, and every morning, she’s afraid. When the door finally opens and he glares out at her, the pressure on Veronica’s chest lifts just a little bit.

“Did you at least bring breakfast?” He stares balefully.

Veronica lifts up the bag of bagels. “I got two different kinds of cream cheese, too.” She’s hoping today he’ll eat more than a few bites.

He walks away, muttering, but leaves the door open behind him. Veronica closes it and heads to the kitchen to make some coffee. The only extra appliance Logan owns is an Italian coffee maker that probably cost more than Veronica’s car. She’s not sure he knows how to use it, and sometimes she catches him watching her closely as she puts in the coffee grounds and presses the right buttons. 

Logan wanders in and cuts open a bagel. Veronica tries to think of something to ask besides how he is, and finally settles on, “Any big plans for the weekend?”

He doesn’t look up. “Yeah, I’m partying with the Olsen twins and Lindsay Lohan. Should be a rager.”

“I was thinking maybe we could—”

“What? We could what?” The knife clatters to the counter. “Apparently I need to say it again: I don’t need you to babysit me, Veronica. So just toddle off on your merry way and leave me in peace.” 

She gets two mugs out of the mostly bare cupboard. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

At this, he cracks a genuine smile. “Because I can be.” 

*

Backup bounds towards her when she walks in the door, and Veronica drops her book bag to give him a hug. Keith sits on the couch, watching. 

“Hey, Dad. You got that ice cream scoop all fired up?” A second after the words leave her mouth, Veronica realizes that something’s wrong. Her father stares at her, anger, and worse yet — disappointment — etched on his face. She’s almost afraid to ask, but she has no choice. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you feeling better?” 

A sick feeling starts to develop in Veronica’s stomach. “Huh? I feel fine.” Well, she did until just now, at least.

“I ran into Rebecca. She said she hoped you were feeling better, since she saw that you missed your midterm last week.”

The sick feeling intensifies tenfold. “Dad, I can explain—”

He jumps to his feet. “Oh, I’m sure you can! I’m sure you’ve got a great excuse waiting and ready to go. How could you do this, Veronica? How could you gamble with your future?”

“I’m going to make up the test, it’s no big deal!”

“No big deal? Oh, it’s a _very_ big deal, Veronica. You may not care if you get into college, but I do.”

“Of course I care! And I’m going to do the test and it will be fine.”

“Did you forge a doctor’s note?”

Her face flushes. “I…well, I had to.” 

“You had to?” Keith fumes, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had to commit a felony?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Wow, I have quite a case of déjà vu. You’re always sorry, Veronica. And you still don’t learn. What was so important that you blew off a midterm?”

For a moment, Veronica wants to tell him so, so badly. Wants to lift the giant weight that gets heavier with each passing day, wants him to make everything okay. Wants him to fix it. But she can’t. “One of my friends needed help. It was really important, or else I never would have missed that test. Never.”

“Which friend? What happened?”

“I….” He stares, waiting, and Veronica swallows the lump in her throat. “I can’t tell you. I made a promise, Dad.”

He smiles bitterly. “Well, at least your friends can trust you.”

“Dad, please—”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” He grabs his coat and shoves his arms into the sleeves. “I’m going out, see you later.” 

Then he’s gone and Veronica’s alone, except for Backup, rubbing against her leg. A few tears slide down her cheeks, and she wipes them away quickly. Backup chuffs softly, looking up at her with big eyes. She kneels down to hug him again and lets herself wallow for a minute.

With a deep breath, she squares her shoulders and heads to her room, flipping on her laptop. In a file marked “Haikus,” she opens up the information she has been gathering all week. Times, dates, places, people. The Fitzpatricks are going to pay, one way or another.

*

Veronica rings the doorbell and waits. She’s skipping lunch, but since he skipped school, she’ll just have to go hungry. 

“Well, if it isn’t Veronica Mars,” Weevil drawls. Beyond him, she can see a couple of kids playing, toys scattered on the carpet. “To what do I owe the…well, I’d say pleasure, but I’m sure you want something, so.”

“I noticed you weren’t at school and I was worried you might be under the weather.” She smiles sweetly.

“I’m touched. The kids have chicken pox, and even though they feel fine, they’ve got to stay home. If you haven’t had it, I suggest you vacate the premises.”

“No worries, I did the pox routine when I was seven. My dad had to tape oven mitts to my hands so I wouldn’t scratch.”

“Speaking of which…” Weevil turns and shouts into the living room, “If either of you even think about scratching while I’m outside, you will live to regret it. You hear me?”

There are muttered agreements and Weevil motions for Veronica to take a chair on the porch as he sinks into another. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I need to know everything you do about the Fitzpatricks.”

Weevil’s eyebrows raise. “And what makes you think I know more than you?”

“Because even though I may be blonde, I’m not stupid. I’m trying to find their weakness, and I can’t do it alone.” 

“What’s this about, Echolls? Why don’t you ask him to help you. He’s pretty resourceful when he wants to be.”

“No, he can’t be involved.” Her tone is strident and at Weevil’s quizzical expression, she belatedly attempts to be casual. “You know how he is; too much of a hot head.”

“Right.” He still levels her with a measured stare. “So what do you want with the Fitzpatricks, then?”

“I want them to go down. I want them to rot in jail. We both know they’re drug dealers at the very least, and there has to be a way to arrange for the police to catch them red-handed.”

“Right, except for the fact that the Fitzpatricks have more than one friend of the family at the sheriff’s department. They’re untouchable, Veronica.”

“No, everyone has a weakness somewhere.” 

He nods. “Fair enough. But before we go any further, answer this question: Where the hell did you leave your brain?” 

“Fine, if you don’t want to help me—”

“What I don’t want is for you to end up as fish food. You’re playing with fire and you _will_ get burned.” 

“You don’t think I know the risks?” She knows only too well.

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

Veronica doesn’t know how to answer. “Because they have to pay!” 

“For what? What happened? Did they do something to you?”

She sees it all again, like a movie on fast forward. “They’re bad people and they deserve to be in jail.”

“Hey, no argument here. But they will crush you. I know you think you’re pretty damn smart, and you are. But they’re smarter. They’re meaner. They’re out of your league. And they _will_ kill you if you mess with them.”

The worst part is that Veronica knows he’s right. After a week of wracking her brain every second she wasn’t worrying about Logan, she knows that there’s no plan she could come up with that would work. Even if she did somehow manage to take Liam down, there would always be another brother or cousin or friend to take his place and make her pay. “Then what am I supposed to do?” She’s near tears again and blinks furiously. “There’s nothing else I can do! I need something to do, or else I’ll go crazy. I have to make it right.”

Weevil, at a loss, awkwardly reaches out to pat her arm. “It’s okay, Veronica. Whatever happened—”

She jerks away and is on her feet. “I’m sorry to waste your time. Thanks for listening.” He calls after her as she practically flies to the car, which still makes weird noises that remind her of darkness and cold metal and sand in her eyes. 

*

Logan’s not home after school, and Veronica walks up and down the beach just to make sure he’s not out surfing, or drowning. She calls his cell again and gets the same message that’s been on there since before it all happened. 

“ _The unselfish effort to bring cheer to others will be the beginning of a happier life for ourselves — Helen Keller._ ”

At the beep, she starts talking. “Hey, it’s me. I’m at your place. Just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or whatever. Call me, okay?”

She peeks in his windows one more time, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything. The house is still empty, no sign of him. Finally, Veronica accepts defeat and drives back home so her father can give her the silent treatment.

In her room, she paces, checking every few minutes to make sure her phone is on. She opens her folder on the Fitzpatricks and goes through the contents almost longingly. When she was planning revenge, she had something to focus on, something to hold onto. She considers ignoring Weevil’s advice, but he’s only put on the table what she’s known all along deep down. 

Before she goes to sleep, she calls both Logan’s phones again. It seems pointless to leave another message, so she hangs up and lies back on the bed. Every few minutes she sits up to check the clock before finally just pulling it down onto the mattress beside her.

The drive over to Logan’s house in the morning seems to take forever, but even worse is the drive to school, knowing that he never came home. She scans the parking lot for his Xterra, but it’s nowhere to be found. She doesn’t go to first period, instead slapping up the Out of Order sign on the bathroom door and hiding out, thinking of where he could be. 

When the bell rings, she slips back out into the hall, falling into step with her fellow students as she angles towards the front door. She’s almost there when she sees him approaching from another direction, nodding absently at something Richie McDougall says.

Veronica doesn’t have to pull Logan’s arm very hard to get him to follow into the bathroom, and he shakes her loose once they’re inside. “Where have you been?” Veronica knows there’s a note of hysteria in her question. 

Logan shrugs. “I went for a drive.”

“You went for a drive? Why didn’t you call me back?”

“Because you’re not my mother,” he snaps. 

“I know! But I’m worried about you, can’t you understand that?” Her voice breaks and her eyes flood, the words rushing out. “Every morning I drive to your house, and every morning I’m afraid I’ll find you dead.”

His voice is thick when he whispers her name, and he clears his throat, taking a deep breath. “I’d never let you find me.”

A sob escapes her and Veronica hugs her arms tightly. “Oh my god, is that supposed to make me feel better? This is all my fault! Do you understand what that would do to me? If you care about me at all—”

“Of course I care about you! But this isn’t about you, and it isn’t your fault.”

“How can you say that?” she yells. “You were protecting me, and it was my stupid idea to go out there in the first place.” She sniffs and wipes her eyes, but the tears keep coming this time.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. I went, you didn’t drag me. And what was I supposed to do? Huh? Just let him rape you? Stand there and watch it happen? I couldn’t do that, Veronica.”

“So instead I had to watch it happen to you! And I’m not going to watch you kill yourself! And don’t say you’re fine! Because there’s no way you could be!”

They stare at each other as silence settles over them heavily. Logan looks away and his voice trembles, eyes glistening. “Okay, I’m not.” 

A muffled thump from one of the stalls suddenly catches their attention. They stand frozen for a long moment, until Veronica can will her feet to move. Her heart pounds as she walks forward and pushes against the closed door with her palm. It doesn’t budge. She glances back at Logan, who looks paler than she can ever remember seeing him.

Veronica tries to sound authoritative. “I know someone’s in there, so just come out.” She curses herself for not checking the stalls, but the sign was still on the door, and it all happened so fast, and…. She’s about to drop to her knees to drag the girl out by her ankles when the lock creaks open, the door swinging inward.

Weevil steps out, and Logan’s gone before Veronica can even breathe.


	5. Chapter 5

The halls are deserted again, save for a janitor who looks curiously at Veronica as she sprints past him towards the front door. Outside, the sun is glaringly bright and she squints as she angles towards the parking lot. There’s a flash of yellow as the Xterra turns onto the main road and is gone.

Veronica skids to a halt, panting for breath. She pats her pockets and realizes her keys are in her purse, which is in her locker. Of course. “Fuck!”

“We’ll take mine.”

Weevil’s behind her, nodding towards his new car. Veronica walks towards it quickly, snapping, “Come on, then!” 

As they leave the parking lot, Weevil asks, “Where to?” He’s subdued, his usual edge missing. 

“I don’t know. Go left, that’s the way he went.”

“Okay. Then where?”

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to know?”

“It’s all right, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! And I swear, if you tell anyone—”

“What kind of a bastard do you take me for? I won’t tell anyone.”

“You promise?”

Weevil nods. “Yeah, I promise.” He stops for a red light and glances over at Veronica’s penetrating stare. “What, you don’t believe me? Look, Logan and I have had our differences, but I owe him this much.”

“Why?”

“Which way?” He presses the gas and indicates the upcoming intersection in the distance. 

“Um…left. Let’s try the beach.” 

“Okay.”

“So, why? Why do you owe him?”

Weevil sighs. “Do we really have to have show and tell right now?” 

“Yes. After what you just heard…and why the hell were you hiding in there spying?”

“I wasn’t spying.”

“Oh, you just decided to use the facilities?”

“I was looking for you. I saw the sign and when you weren’t in there, I just went into the stall to wait. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry, just in case someone else came in first.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to make sure you listened to me about the Fitzpatricks.”

“I did, don’t worry. But you’re getting off topic. Why do you owe Logan?”

“ _I’m_ getting off topic?” 

“Whatever. Talk.”

Grimacing slightly, he nods. “Look, if it wasn’t for me, Logan wouldn’t be charged with murder right now. That night on the bridge…I thought he killed Lilly, and I wanted to make him pay. But of course, it was his old man.” He shrugs. “That’s gotta suck for him.”

“To put it mildly.”

“Yeah. I mean, he was up on that railing looking to jump—”

“He was on the railing? Not just standing by it?” Another wave of nausea washes over her.

“Nope, he was treating it like a balance beam.” 

The image burns itself into Veronica’s mind as she closes her eyes. She’d never asked much about that night; there’d been more pressing issues to deal with. The truth is, she hadn’t really wanted to know.

“So anyway. I figure rich boy’s got enough shit to deal with, being he’s up for a murder he didn’t commit. Now there’s all…this.” He waves his hand through the air. “What the hell happened? I assume the Fitzpatricks are involved, or else you wouldn’t be so bent on revenge.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“Enough with the self pity.”

Veronica opens her mouth to protest, but instead takes a deep breath. He’s right. “We were trying to find out more about Felix’s murder.”

Weevil groans. “Great, just what I wanted to hear.”

“Well, you asked. Anyway, it all went wrong and we were out in the desert. They ambushed us and the leader — I’m pretty sure it was Liam — he was going to….” She finds it ridiculously hard to say out loud. “He was going to rape me.”

“And Logan tried to stop him.” Weevil points ahead. “This way?”

“Yeah, go straight.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Logan offered him money, tried to do everything he could. And then….”

“And then Fitzpatrick figured it was way more fun to be a total psychopath and made him choose — him or you.” 

“Yeah.”

“Jesus. I really fucking hate those Micks.”

“Join the club.”

They pull into the parking lot by the shore. The stretch of beach is popular with surfers, but Logan’s truck is nowhere to be seen. “He could have gone anywhere, Veronica. He could be driving to Santa Barbara for all we know.”

“I know. I’ve got to get my cell, just in case he calls. Let’s just go back to school. It was stupid to think we could find him.”

Weevil pulls out, and they head back up the street, defeated. A horrible thought surges into Veronica’s mind and she gasps in a small breath. “What?” Weevil asks.

“You don’t think…he wouldn’t go to the bridge? In the day?”

“His mother did.”

“Oh my god—”

“We’re going, we’re going.” Weevil steps on the gas, and they speed towards Coronado. A grim silence blankets them, and every stop light is like torture. Veronica clasps her hands tightly in her lap to stop herself from punching the window.

As they finally approach the bridge, her heart pounds and she clutches the dashboard as she leans forward, her palms slippery with sweat. She scans the bridge quickly, Logan’s truck nowhere in sight. Weevil slows down, and they peer carefully at both sides of the overpass.

“Doesn’t look like he’s here,” Weevil says.

“What if he comes the minute we leave?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell you, Veronica. There’s only so much you can do. He could be slitting his wrists somewhere for all we know.” At Veronica’s look of horror, he clears his throat. “Sorry, that didn’t really come out right.”

“Take me back to school. I’ll get my phone and my car and I’ll find him.”

Weevil nods and swings the car around. They both check the bridge again, but there’s nothing amiss. Veronica keeps her eyes peeled for the Xterra on the way back to school, but can’t spot it amongst all the other cars whizzing by. The sun flashes off glass and metal and Veronica feels a headache forming behind her eyes.

In the parking lot, Weevil cuts the engine and Veronica’s already opening her door. Weevil trails behind her into the school, all the way to her locker. He hovers uncertainly, and Veronica is about to snap at him when he speaks. “Look, I’ll keep my eyes out for him. Call me if you need help.”

She slams her locker shut, already pulling her phone out of her bag. “Okay.” She stops and looks him in the eye. “And you promise, right? Not a word.”

“To the grave.”

Veronica nods and leaves him behind, hurrying out to her car as she dials Logan’s number. The same message plays and she wants to scream at Helen fucking Keller’s words of wisdom. “Logan, it’s me. Look, everything’s going to be okay. Weevil’s not going to tell anyone. Please call me.” She doesn’t say that she’s going crazy with worry, but figures her trembling voice gets that message across.

*

By the time night falls, Veronica’s logged more than a hundred miles driving around Neptune. She has a pattern: Logan’s house; the bridge; the beaches. Rinse and repeat. As she’s driving, she keeps a close watch out and is thankful for once that Logan drives a big, yellow eyesore. 

She should call her father and tell him she’s going to be late, but it’s almost midnight and he’s probably fast asleep. Okay, he’s probably not. But if she doesn’t talk to him, she won’t have to tell him what’s going on. Won’t have to lie again. 

Her phone rings as she drives away from Logan’s dark house, and her heart leaps, sinking just as quickly when she sees that it’s Weevil. After a moment’s debate, she answers. “Hey. I can’t find him.”

“Don’t worry, he’s probably just hiding out. Where are you looking?”

She fills him in quickly and says, “Look Weevil, thanks for calling. But I’ve gotta go.” She hangs up and makes sure that she didn’t miss any calls.

On her way back from another pass along the bridge, she drives by Palmerston Road and a memory flares to life. The sun had been impossibly bright that day, and Veronica remembers wishing it would just rain, or at least cloud over. It had seemed so wrong to squint up into the sky and wipe sweat from her brow. Indian Summer had arrived late that year.

Veronica hasn’t been back to the cemetery since the funeral, and as she turns towards it, the vague feeling of dread in her stomach intensifies. She’s not sure why she didn’t think of this before, but she feels compelled now. Maybe it’s nothing. 

It’s a big cemetery, one you have to drive through to get anywhere. It stretches out for at least a mile and, of course, the gate is locked. Veronica tries to remember where Lilly’s grave is, and doesn’t think it’s too far. Logan’s truck is nowhere to be found, but something still urges her on, and she slips through the gap in the gate doors, scooting under the padlocked chain. 

She hasn’t gone very far when she realizes she didn’t bring her flashlight, but the moon is fairly bright, casting a bluish tint on the trees and gravestones. The minutes speed by as she makes her way in what she hopes is the right direction, walking quickly and trying not to jump at every shadow.

Veronica doesn’t see him at first, slumped down on the ground against the headstone, facing away from her. He’s motionless and for a terrible moment, she thinks it’s all over, that she’s too late. She freezes in her tracks, her heart in her throat. 

“She’d hate it here, don’t you think?” His voice is scratchy and raw.

Veronica exhales and says a quick prayer to someone or something. Anything. “Yeah, she would.” It’s the reason she's never been back, never seen the marble monstrosity Jake and Celeste chose to mark their daughter’s final resting place. Veronica knows there really isn’t anything of Lilly here. She never rested; always, always moving, that was Lilly.

Logan sits up straighter and tilts his head back against the stone. “I guess Celeste finally got the perfect, innocent girl she always wanted.” On top of the gravestone, a white angel spreads her wings wide, a beatific smile on her face. 

It’s obscene.

“Logan—”

“How much did you watch?”

“What?” Veronica kneels down a few feet away from him, afraid he’ll bolt if she gets too close. 

“Lilly and my father. You saw the tapes, right?”

“Just for a minute. Just long enough to realize that it was him.”

“I’m not sure what was worse: seeing her with him, laughing and getting off, or just…seeing her at all. Hearing her voice. And missing her so fucking much.” He sniffs and wipes his nose carelessly. “Or maybe what’s worse is that I’m glad she’s not here now. Not here to laugh at me. I’m _glad_.”

“She wouldn’t laugh—”

“Yes, she would.” He looks at her then, and Veronica wants to cry at what she sees in his eyes. “The real Lilly, the one who fucked my father and thought it was funny. She’d laugh, all right.”

Veronica wants to argue, but somehow she can’t. “Logan, everything’s going to be okay.”

He giggles then, a high-pitched note of hysteria echoing across the gravestones. “You can’t actually believe that. Not after today.”

“Weevil’s not going to tell anyone, it’s all going to be fine.” 

“How can you still be so naïve? It’s kind of endearing, really.”

“Logan, I know it seems hopeless right now—”

He affects a Southern twang. “But tomorrow is another day?”

“Yes. I don’t care if it’s a cliché, it’s true.”

Logan peers up at the sky, the stars twinkling faintly above them. “There is no tomorrow.” 

His arm shifts and Veronica sees a glint of metal. Oh god. No, no, no, no, no. “Logan, what’s that?”

He smiles faintly. “You mean this?” He lifts it up, pointing it at his temple. “It’s…today.” 

Veronica swallows, her throat like sandpaper. Her pulse races, limbs tingling and growing numb. “Logan, put the gun down.”

“If Mom taught me anything, it was to go out with a bang. But I don’t want to disappear into the ocean. I don’t want to see her there.”

“Give me the gun.” Veronica tries to sound commanding.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s got to stop, it all has to stop. Just go, okay? Turn around and don’t look back. Ever. You deserve more.”

“Stop it. Stop it right now. I’m not going to let you do this!”

Logan goes on like he doesn’t hear her. “I used to come here all the time. Hop the fence, get drunk and stoned. Talk to her. Even though I know she’s not really here. It was a hard habit to break, talking to Lilly. Even when I hated her.” He takes a long swig from a flask Veronica didn’t notice before. “But tonight I couldn’t think of anything to say.” He taps the gun against his forehead.

“Logan, please give that to me.” Veronica holds her hand out, sees it trembling. 

Their eyes meet. “Tell Duncan he was my best friend, and that I…I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Logan, give me the gun.”

“You have to go now, Veronica.” A ghost of a smile washes over his face. “I meant what I said, you know. That night. I do love you.”

“So if you love her, stop being such a punk-ass bitch.”

Veronica and Logan both jump, the flask tumbling from Logan’s lap onto the grass. Weevil stands ten feet behind them, watching. “You brought him?” Logan gets to his feet unsteadily, the gun still in his hand. 

“No! Weevil what are you doing here? How did you know?” Veronica hopes she sounds as genuinely confused as she is.

“Lucky guess. I took a chance and saw his truck over there on the street.” Weevil takes a few steps forward and addresses Logan. “I spent my night looking for your sorry, rich, white ass. Only to discover that you’re just as pathetic as I thought you were.”

“Weevil!” Veronica’s head spins, everything tilting wildly out of control. “Get out of here, you’re not helping.”

“Fuck you, man. Fuck you,” Logan snarls.

“Fuck me? You’re the little bitch, not me.”

Logan’s body vibrates with anger. “I am not!” 

“Oh yeah? Prove it, you fucking pussy.”

With a growl, Logan throws down the gun and tackles Weevil to the ground, his fist rearing back before slamming into Weevil’s face. They roll over and over, arms and legs entangled. Veronica watches in shock as Logan punches Weevil again and again, a scream of rage exploding from his lungs. 

As they struggle, Veronica picks up the gun and ejects the clip, hands shaking. She hopes it will be empty, but bullets greet her. She shoves the clip into the pocket of her jacket and remembers to check the chamber, just in case a bullet’s already been readied. The chamber’s empty, and she feels as relieved as she can, given the circumstances. As she tosses the gun aside, she refocuses on the flurry of limbs on the ground, the blood and crunch of bones. She realizes that Weevil isn’t really fighting back, is just trying to shield himself. She pulls on Logan’s shoulders, trying to pry him off Weevil before serious damage is done. 

Veronica yanks, Weevil pushes, and she and Logan sprawl backwards onto the grass. She tightens her arms around him, drawing him against her chest as she sits up. Logan struggles for a few seconds before he blinks up at the sky, gasping for breath. 

Weevil tries to wipe the blood from his face, but only ends up smearing it around. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Logan spits out. 

“Good. You know if you off yourself, you’ll never get to throw another punch at me. Now _that_ would be a tragedy.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Logan grits out.

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that all day.” Weevil shakes his head, shrugging. “Look. You and me? We’ve had our differences and I’m sure we’ll have plenty more. But what happened with the Fitzpatricks, what you did…that takes balls. And anyone who doesn’t think so is a liar and a fucking coward.” 

Logan says nothing, his chest heaving as he flexes his fingers.

Weevil sighs and gets to his feet, groaning. “Protecting your girl like that? That’s what a real man would do. So no one’s gonna hear about what happened from me.”

Veronica tries to keep her voice even. She can’t cry now. “You swear, right?” 

Weevil smiles grimly and kisses the tip of his finger before reaching down to touch Lilly’s headstone. “I swear.”

Logan nods jerkily and tries to pull away from her, but Veronica folds her arms tighter around him. Weevil picks up the gun and sticks it in the back of his pants. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“See that you do,” Veronica tells him. She and Weevil look at each other for a long moment, and she tries to relay her gratitude. 

He cocks his head and says, “Later.”

She watches Weevil until he’s out of sight, scaling the fence Veronica never even thought about. The grass is slightly wet from the night dew, but she lays back anyway, exhaustion descending like a hammer. Logan moves with her and rests his head on her stomach, arm settling across her hips. Veronica sifts her fingers through his hair gently, and he lets her.

A breeze rustles the leaves on the trees, a warm wind that skims across her cheeks. Everything is quiet, except for the slow, steady hum of his breathing. 

*

Logan sleeps soundly, slumped against the passenger-side window. From what Veronica can tell, he’d drunk more than a little scotch before she found him in the cemetery. She takes the keys out of the LeBaron just in case and closes her door gently. He doesn’t stir.

Since she’s not leaving him alone again for the foreseeable future, she figures it’s best to go home now to get some things and leave her father a note. She opens the front door as quietly as possible, quickly flicking on the small living room light so Backup will see her and not bark. 

So far, so good. She tiptoes into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and downing it gratefully.

“Last time I checked, this was a school night.” 

Veronica gasps and the glass slips to the floor, shattering loudly. She turns to find Keith leaning against the wall beyond the kitchen, watching her dispassionately. “Dad! You scared me.”

“Good. You’re grounded. I don’t care how old you are, I won’t have you sneaking in here in the middle of the night. Do you hear me?”

“Dad—” 

“Do. You. Hear. Me?”

It’s useless. He’s too angry, he won’t listen to anything she says now, and she still has to do what she has to do. She nods, since she doesn’t trust her voice not to betray her. 

“I expect better than this, Veronica.” He shakes his head and turns to go back to his room.

She keeps her face down as she kneels on the tiles, picking up the bigger pieces of glass. Tears escape her eyes and she finally has to take a deep, shuddering breath as sobs overwhelm her. The guilt and anger and frustration and grief pour out as she struggles to gulp in enough air.

Then he’s there, eyes round with concern, lifting her to her feet and holding her close, making it all better. “What’s wrong? It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Her father rubs her back as he presses a kiss to her head, and Veronica feels safe for the first time in forever.

She opens her mouth, and the words tumble out.


	6. Chapter 6

Logan snores lightly, his mouth open, eyes twitching as a dream unspools. Veronica sits cross-legged beside him on the bed, waiting. There’s no chair in his room; only the bed, night table and tall dresser with t-shirts hanging haphazardly out of an open drawer. The curtains are partially drawn over the large window, but Veronica can still see the ocean. 

It’s almost noon, and the waiting seems interminable. Just as she considers (not for the first time) making some seemingly accidental noise to wake him, he grunts and rolls over on his side. His eyes open slowly and he blinks up at her groggily. As he moans, he wipes the line of drool from the corner of his mouth. 

“Here, have some water. You’re probably totally dehydrated. I suspect you also have a hell of a hangover.” She hands him a bottle and he lifts his head from the pillow. After a few gulps he lays back and closes his eyes again.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” His voice is still scratchy, and it makes Veronica wince.

“Yes. We both should. But we’re not.”

“You have an amazing grasp of the obvious.” He frowns. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember? I helped you walk from the car.” 

He screws up his face, apparently trying to conjure the memory. “Oh yeah.” 

“Logan, we need to talk.”

He groans. “No, you need to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, _so_ not going to happen.”

After rubbing his face, he opens his eyes and peers up at her. “I had a bad day. But you don’t need to worry.”

“Yes, I do. There’s no point in even having this debate, Logan.” 

“I’m fine. Really.”

The pink elephant in the room stomps over. “Really? You’re not suicidal? Because I’m pretty sure you are.”

“I was just being melodramatic. I take after my parents — they never did very good material.”

“I was there, Logan. And I know that this has been building for a long time. And I’m not leaving.” She clears her throat. “There’s something I have to tell you.” 

“What?” He blinks up at her warily. 

A door opens and Backup barks happily, announcing his return. He bounds into the room, eagerly looking for attention from Logan, who pets him absently. “Who was….”

Keith comes around the corner and leans against the doorframe, a crooked smile on his face. “Hope Backup doesn’t get sand everywhere.”

Logan sits up like a bolt. He doesn’t answer, just stares at Veronica. “What is he….” 

She reaches for his hand, but he snatches it away and presses himself against the headboard. “Logan, I needed help—” 

“You told him? You _told him_?” His voice rises to a manic pitch. 

“I didn’t plan to. But last night I just…lost it, and…I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Everything? You told him everything?”

Veronica nods. “It just came out.”

Keith clears his throat. “Logan, I know this is hard for you—” 

“Oh, you _know_? You don’t _know_ anything! Get out! Get out of my house! Take your daughter and your dog with you.”

With a deep breath, Veronica wills herself not to cry — she’s cried enough lately. Keith doesn’t move, still leans casually. “What I _know_ is this,” he says. “I’m not leaving. Nor is my daughter, or our dog. You did a very brave thing, and for that I am very grateful. And for that, you’re also my responsibility.”

“What? No, I’m not. Just get the hell out.”

“You are, whether you like it or not. So go ahead and yell. Curse my name to the heavens, order me out, throw a tantrum. But I’m not leaving.”

“I’m calling the police if you’re not out of here in five minutes.”

“Really? You’re going to call the police?” Shrugging, Keith says, “Well, it’s up to you. But I’m not sure Sheriff Lamb or his deputies will be particularly helpful in this situation.”

Logan shakes his head and huffs, “So this is how you repay me? With torture?”

Keith smiles broadly. “Yep. The Mars family is here to stay, as long as we have to. I’d advise you to get used it.” He claps his hands together. “So, who’s hungry? I picked up some groceries, and you two are in for a treat.” He turns to go, but stops and looks back, his smile fading. “You did what needed to be done. Don’t blame Veronica for doing the same.” 

In Keith’s wake, Logan looks shell-shocked. Veronica reaches out a tentative hand again, but he jerks away the moment she makes contact. “Don’t.” He stumbles out of bed towards the bathroom. A moment after he closes the door, it flings open. “What the fuck happened to the lock?”

“Disabled. Just in case.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, who do you people think you are?” 

“People who care about you, whether you like it or not.” 

“You know, if I really want to off myself, I will.”

She nods. “I know. But we’re not going to make it easy.”

Logan slams the door.

*

“Dad, I’ve been thinking about the Fitzpatricks.” 

Keith bangs down the lasagna dish, making Veronica jump. “Don’t.”

“Just hear me out—”

“No, Veronica. No.” He looks at her, and she can see the anger bubbling up to the surface as his voice raises. “Don’t think about the Fitzpatricks. You are not to have anything to do with them ever again. I don’t want you to think about them, or talk about them. If you see a Fitzpatrick on the street, you run in the other direction. Is that clear?”

“Dad, I was just going to—”

“Is. That. Clear?”

“Yes. Message received.” Veronica goes back to chopping the clove of garlic pinched between her fingers.

“I understand why you didn’t go to the police. Why you didn’t tell me when it happened. At least, I’m trying to. I really am. But I think about what happened, what almost happened to you, and I just…Veronica, you know what a stupid, stupid thing you did.” 

“Yes, I know!” 

“And I am trying…” She can see him practically bite his tongue, his jaw clenching. “I am trying not to be angry, because I love you. And because that boy in there needs more help than you can give him, and he doesn’t have anyone else.” He starts layering the lasagna ingredients, cheese flying over the side of the pan. “So next time you think about the Fitzpatricks, or getting even, or seeking justice, or whatever it is you want — just remember what happened last time.”

Veronica wipes her hands on a dishtowel before walking out, unable to look her father in the eye. “I couldn’t forget, even if I tried.”

She finds Logan sitting on his bed, staring out the window, hair still wet from his shower. “Feeling better?” 

“Well I was going to take some Advil, but I see my pharmaceuticals have been confiscated.” 

“I have some, hold on.” Veronica finds her purse and tips two pills into her palm, happy to have something to do. He swallows them, and she stands there awkwardly until Backup runs in, wanting to play. Veronica watches Backup wrestle with a chew toy, while Logan doesn’t really look at anything in particular.

“Logan, I know you’re upset….”

He shrugs. “I’m not upset, I’m educated.”

“Educated?”

“Yeah. Now I know how much your promises are worth.” He gets up and walks out, and she lets him go.

Logan doesn’t own a table, so they stand in the kitchen, leaning against various surfaces, picking at their lasagna. After Keith glares at him for an uncomfortably long time, Logan takes some more substantial bites.

Logan is halfheartedly playing a video game when the doorbell rings. Veronica and her father share a look over the sink, and Veronica finishes the dishes while Keith goes to the door. After some murmured conversation, Logan’s voice rings out. “Is this some kind of joke?” 

_Here we go._ Veronica takes a deep breath and heads into the living room. Logan is still on the couch, staring up at her father and a middle-aged woman, incredulous. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m sure Mr. Mars can show you out.”

The woman, who Veronica knows is Elizabeth Jensen, a therapist her father used to come in contact with on certain cases, smiles mildly and puts her briefcase down on the floor. She serenely says, “Don’t worry, Keith. I’ll be able to find my own way out when the time comes.” She takes a seat on the other end of the couch, crossing her legs gracefully, Logan still regarding her with disbelief. 

Keith ushers Veronica out, and they take Backup outside. He dutifully chases down stick after stick as they watch in silence. It seems like a lifetime later, but it’s probably closer to an hour when Elizabeth joins them. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep an eye on him, and don’t try to force him too much to talk. Let him go at his own pace.” 

“Thanks, Liz. I owe you a big one for this,” Keith says, with a gentle smile. 

She smiles back. “Don’t worry, I’ll collect.” She turns to Veronica. “It was nice to finally meet you. Your father’s very proud.”

They watch her make her way off the beach before she disappears around the side of the house. Keith tosses the stick one last time to Backup. “Okay, I’ve got a bit more shopping to do. I won’t be too long.” 

As he leaves, she asks, “Are you still?” Veronica hates the desperation in her voice.

Her father turns back, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Proud of me?”

He comes back to press a kiss to her forehead. “Always.” 

*

Logan is gazing vacantly at the TV when Veronica rejoins him in the living room.

“So….” Veronica can’t think of anything to say, and since Logan doesn’t acknowledge her presence, she stays quiet and turns her attention to the latest happenings in Port Charles. 

Her father returns a couple of hours later, struggling to hoist a double mattress into the house. Veronica leaps up to help him, once again glad to have something to do. “Why didn’t you get it delivered, Dad?” 

“This is why God invented bungee cords, sweetie. Besides, those clever Swedes already make us put the furniture together, the delivery’s a scam.”

Veronica and Keith carry in the boxes for the bed frame and headboard while Logan continues to stare at the television, until Keith stands in front of it. “How about you help me put together your new guest bed?”

Logan doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes straight ahead. “I’ll pass.”

Keith smiles widely. “Well, I insist.” 

“I’m sure Veronica would love to help.”

“Veronica’s got dinner to make. Well, dinner to order. That’s really her forte. So come on, help me out.”

Sighing, Logan finally looks at him. “What is this, male bonding 101?” 

“This is you helping me put together a new bed.” Keith reaches down and switches the TV off.

Logan’s sigh is even deeper as he reluctantly gets up and follows Keith into the guest room. Veronica sorts through the take-out menus and eventually decides on Thai, ordering a variety of dishes. Then she lingers in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, listening to Logan and her dad bicker over who was the last one with the Allen key.

They eat dinner in the living room, Veronica sitting on the floor. As usual, the TV thankfully negates the need for much conversation, for which they all seem grateful. Keith didn’t think to get linen for the new bed, so Veronica runs out to Target, leaving them to Paula Abdul’s inanity. 

Keith insists that Logan sleep with his door ajar, and Logan finally agrees after some grumbling about being a prisoner in his own house. Veronica leaves the guest room door open, too. Maybe in solidarity, maybe because she wants to be able to hear him if he gets up. 

In the night, she knows her father is checking on Logan every once in a while, poking his head into her room, too, before going back to the couch to nap. Veronica flits in and out of sleep, and wakes sometime before dawn. The sky is just beginning to lighten in the distance, and she tiptoes to Logan’s room and peers around the door. 

She stays for a few minutes and watches them, Logan and Backup. The dog rests against him, breathing loudly, slobber probably pooling on Logan’s sheets. 

Back in her room, Veronica falls into a deep sleep. 

*

By the third day, Logan doesn’t argue when Dr. Jensen arrives for their daily session. Keith goes to the office to catch up on some work, and Veronica paces the sand behind Logan’s house, trying to talk herself out of bugging his living room. So far she is successful.

She distracts herself by calling Wallace when she knows he’ll be in class. It feels like she hasn’t seen him in forever, and she hates having to lie. She tells a partial truth this time: Logan’s having some serious problems and she and her dad are helping him out. Hopefully Wallace won’t push too hard for details next week at school.

She worries about going back, about not being able to keep tabs on Logan all the time. But he’s right, of course. If he really wants to kill himself, no one can stop him. Not even her. She has to believe that they’re helping him, that he’ll be okay. Besides, they have to go back sooner or later. Her father will only get her out of class for so long, and even Logan can’t talk Clemmons around on _that_ many absences. 

When her dad returns a few hours later, he demands their help heaving a large box out of the back of the car. Logan sees the IKEA logo and sighs long-sufferingly. “You know I have money, right? You should stop buying me stuff. I can just pick out a table and have someone deliver it. Assembled and everything.”

“What fun would that be? Hold your end up higher. Veronica, get the door.”

They open the box and spread the pieces of the table out on the dining room floor. Keith bought a tool set when he picked up the bed, and now he surveys the different slats of wood, a hammer ready and waiting in his hand. 

The doorbell rings, and Veronica goes to answer, figuring she should leave the men to their building. She could probably put the table together faster than either of them, but it gives them something to do. Weevil stands on the front stoop, his face still bruised and slightly swollen.

Veronica’s smile is bright, and a bit too forced. “Hey. How are you?”

He shrugs. “You know. Same old.”

“Keepin’ it real?”

Weevil laughs, shaking his head. “Word up, homie.”

Veronica attempts to flash a gang sign and this time her smile feels real. 

“So. You guys haven’t been in school.” 

“No, it’s kind of been a weird week.”

“The lady does have a gift for understatement.” Weevil scratches his head and looks around, like any minute someone’s going to realize he doesn’t belong here. “Look, we all missed Robertson’s history class, and now we’re stuck in a group together. We’ve gotta do a presentation on the printing press and how it changed the world, or whatever.” 

“Oh, so you’re here for scholastic reasons.”

“Yep. Don’t wanna mess up my GPA. You know how choosy Harvard can be.”

“Well, why don’t you come in for a bit.”

He looks around again and finally nods. Inside, they find Keith and Logan pretty much as Veronica left them, although now two pieces of wood are nailed together in a way that she’s pretty sure is incorrect.

“You’re doing that all wrong.” Weevil examines the would-be table critically.

“Eli. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Keith glances at Veronica, but she deftly avoids his gaze.

“Sheriff. There was some…homework stuff.” 

Logan gets to his feet and Veronica is sure everyone can sense the uneasiness coming off him in waves. “Hey.” His eyes keep flitting to Weevil's bruises and away again, and he jams his hands in his back pockets. The seconds tick by until he says, “You think you can do better with the table?”

Weevil’s chin lifts. “I _know_ I can.”

“Well, your people are rather gifted in the trades.” 

Weevil looks at Logan for a moment before a grin spreads across his face. “Gimme that screwdriver before you break a nail.”

Logan tentatively returns his smile and hands it over. Weevil starts barking out orders, and soon the table begins to take shape. Logan disappears at one point to the kitchen, returning to hand Weevil a bottle of Corona, lime wedged in the top. Keith glares disapprovingly, but accepts a bottle, too. Veronica sips on hers, and rolls her eyes at her father’s frown.

*

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the warm satisfaction from the Chinese food they ate on Logan’s new dining table, but when Veronica suggests a walk, Logan says yes. Weevil left after dinner to pick up his Grandmother, and Keith and Backup are ensconced on the couch watching the Padres probably lose another one.

The water glitters in the moonlight, and they’re all alone on Logan’s stretch of beach, leading to a cove. Veronica squishes the sand between her toes and inhales the salty air. “It’s beautiful here, Logan. Peaceful.”

“Yeah. And a big hit with the ladies.”

She laughs awkwardly and tries to think of something to say that doesn’t sound wrong.

Logan smiles. “Don’t worry, Veronica. You’re off the hook.”

What? “What?”

Logan picks up a stick and tosses it into the ocean. “I said you’re off the hook. I don’t expect…I know it’s over with us. I know you could never....I understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Veronica.” He tosses another stick, flicking his wrist and sending it sailing high and long. “After what happened, you could never…you know. Feel like that about me again.”

“What?” She catches his arm. “Logan, what happened doesn’t change how I feel about you. Not _that_ way.”

He laughs joylessly. “Be serious. You were there. You saw what happened.” He gazes back out over the water. “You saw what he did. How could you ever want to be with me again after that?”

“Is that what you think?” She moves closer and steps around him, forcing him to look at her. “Logan, we’ve had our ups and downs. To say the least.” Veronica takes a shaky breath. “But I always wanted….” 

He swallows roughly. “You don’t have to—”

“Even when I tried really, really hard not to. It was still there.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“I’m not. It’s the truth.” They stare at each other, the seconds stretching out. She presses her lips to his, because it feels like the right thing to do. And because she’s not lying. He kisses her back and for a moment it’s perfect. She’s wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe, breathing him in. 

Then everything shifts, and he presses her down into the sand. They’re all elbows and knees as he kisses her desperately, hands roaming. She sucks in a breath and pushes against his shoulders. “Logan, wait.” He kisses her again, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, and it’s too much, too fast. Veronica turns her head away. “Logan, slow down.” She pushes hard against his weight. “Stop.”

He does, looking down at her with dawning horror before he rolls away, leaning back on his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I just want….”

“It’s okay, Logan.” Veronica sits up and reaches out, but he scrabbles backwards in the sand. “It’s okay.”

Eyes shining, Logan shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” 

He’s running by the time Veronica’s on her feet, and her voice is swallowed by the sound of the waves as he disappears into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Veronica races down the beach, trying to get traction as sand flies up in her wake. In the distance, she catches a glimpse of Logan climbing over the rocks above the cove before he disappears down the other side, where she knows the beach stretches out for miles.

By the time she gets there, she’s sure Logan’s long gone. Waves crash into the dark cove, and there are no signs of life. She considers going back to get her father and Backup, but the thought of explaining anything to her dad inspires a burst of energy and she starts to clamber up the craggy hill.

Veronica’s about halfway up when a sharp rock slices into the sole of her foot. She gasps in pain and stops to inspect the trickle of blood that drips out. A thought occurs, and after a moment’s hesitation and a flush of shame, she calls out. “Logan! Help me! Please!” She doesn’t have to work at sounding desperate.

For good measure, she steps down on the offending stone again, trying to draw a bit more blood. “Logan, please help me!” He could be a mile away by now, but maybe not. She knows it’s manipulative, but all the various things he could do to himself flit through her mind and her voice cracks as she yells out his name again.

There’s still nothing but the sound of the waves and her ragged breathing. Veronica tries again, hoping her voice carries on the wind. She thinks she hears a noise, and a moment later he appears above her, high on the rocks. “Veronica? What happened?”

“I cut my foot. I can’t walk.” It’s…an exaggeration. She reassures herself that the first part is true.

He climbs down quickly and she doesn’t fake her relief as she leans into him, his arm secure around her back as he helps her. When they reach the sand, he sits her on a rock and kneels down, lifting up her foot. She’s gratified to glimpse a fair amount of blood.

He prods the wound gently. “It doesn’t look too deep.” 

Veronica can see the evidence of tears on his cheeks, but he’s completely focused on her slightly fake injury. Guilt twists in her gut and she tries to smile. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“We’d better get back. Your father’s probably going to have the SWAT team out looking for you any second now.”

The temptation is strong to just ignore what happened, to go back and sweep it under the rug, where it will have plenty of company. But Veronica knows she owes it to him to talk about it. She needs to make him understand.

“Logan, wait.” She presses gently on his shoulder as he starts to rise, and he sinks back to his knees. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just not ready for…so much.”

He can’t meet her eyes. “Let’s just get back.”

“No. We need to talk about it.” 

He looks away, hugging himself with his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Logan, is that what you think?” She turns his face towards her. “You didn’t. And I know you wouldn’t.” She tugs lightly on one of his hands, and he lets go of himself, lets her hold it. “You just need to slow down. We can’t fix everything overnight.”

Nodding, he lets out a long breath. “I don’t want to be this…pathetic thing. This… _victim_. I want to be a man.”

“Logan, you _are_. I mean, look at us here.” She smiles, and punches him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re my knight in shining armour.”

This gets a small laugh out of him, and when she squeezes his hand, he squeezes back. The next thing she knows, he swings her up into his arms. “Right now I guess I’m either your chariot or your white horse.”

The discussion is over, and Veronica doesn’t argue. She lets herself relax, resting her head against his as he carries her back up the beach. Her father is waiting, worried scowl in place. He quickly forbids rock climbing, and retrieves the first aid kit he stashed under the kitchen sink.

*

Saturday dawns bright and sunny, and as Backup chases seagulls, Veronica watches Logan surfing on waves that seem to come out of nowhere before dissolving on the shore. He wipes out once, disappearing for so long that Veronica is on her feet and almost at the water when he pops up, wiping water from his eyes and smiling to himself.

He stops short when he sees her, and she tries to act casual, like she’s just hanging out by the shoreline. Backup is no help, running off down the beach.

“Hey,” Logan says.

“Hey. You looked great out there.”

He tucks his surfboard under his arm and shrugs. “I guess. The waves aren’t too big today.”

“I don’t know, they look pretty big to me.”

“You should try it.” He nods his head towards the water.

“What, surfing?” She laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll stick to solid ground, thanks.”

They suddenly run out of things to say, and Logan clears his throat awkwardly. “How’s your foot? Seems okay.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, much better this morning. Thanks.” Veronica can feel the blush creeping up her face. “Well, I’d better let you get back to it.”

“Right. Okay.” Logan returns to the ocean, paddling out to catch another wave.

In the kitchen, Veronica finds her father frying bacon and eggs. “You kids hungry?” 

“Yeah, sure. Logan’s surfing.”

“I know, I saw. He’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, he is. It’s nice to see him doing something.” She pulls herself up onto the counter and leans back against the cupboards, watching her father cook.

“Everything okay after last night?”

“Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you two were avoiding each other a little.” 

“No, it’s fine.” She forces a smile. “So, what culinary delight are you preparing?”

He looks between the frying pan and Veronica. “Well, it’s not just a clever disguise — what you see before you _is_ actually bacon and eggs.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Veronica’s blushing again.

“Honey, do you think you’ll be okay here overnight? I got a call about a quick case that needs some surveillance. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine, don’t worry. How are the books? You’ve taken a lot of time off this week.”

“They could be better. That’s why I’m taking this job.”

“You need some money?”

Veronica and Keith turn to find Logan in the doorway. “Because I can give you money if you need it.”

“No, we’re fine. Thanks.” Keith smiles, and Veronica knows he hates this.

“But you bought me furniture, I should at least pay you back for that—”

“No, really. Don’t worry about it.” Keith brandishes the spatula. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Um, over-easy, I guess.” 

“Over-easy it is. You’d better go dry off, it’s almost ready.”

Logan nods and does as he’s told, the desire to fight apparently disappearing with each passing day. Veronica can’t decide whether that’s a good or bad thing.

*

The sun is a memory on the horizon, a wide band of pink and orange. Veronica’s hair feels crunchy from the salt water, and hunger burns in her stomach. Her arms aching from paddling out over and over again, what she wants more than anything is a shower, dinner and maybe a nap. 

But what she feels most of all is satisfied. Happy, even. They had drifted down the shoreline as the evening went on, and as they walk back to the house, her new surfboard is heavy under her arm. 

“Want me to carry that?” Logan asks.

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“Right. That’s why you’re dragging one end through the sand.”

“Okay, so this surfing business is harder than — actually, it always looked hard.”

He smiles. “So let me carry the stupid board already.”

Veronica’s about to agree when she realizes that the loud voices she hears are coming from Logan’s house. “Logan, who’s that?”

They hurry on, Backup bounding ahead. He barks loudly and as she gets closer, Veronica makes out a bunch of 09ers on the deck, pressed up against the house as Backup makes his displeasure with their intrusion known. 

“Call off the freakin’ dog!” Dick yells. 

Veronica sighs, and lets Backup growl for a few more satisfying seconds. “Backup! Chill. Come here, boy.” Backup obediently returns to her side. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Logan’s voice sounds tense.

“Dude, you’ve been totally MIA. We came to make sure you weren’t dead or anything.” His eyes flit over Veronica, and he grins suggestively. “I guess you’ve been waxing your board, huh?” 

Logan’s jaw clenches. “Look man, this isn’t a good time—”

Dick motions towards the keg that Veronica hadn’t noticed before. “Dude, it’s Saturday night! Everyone’s on their way, it’ll be awesome.” 

The hunger in Veronica’s stomach turns to dread. She wills Logan to kick them and their keg out, but his resistance fades and he returns Dick’s high-five. Logan unlocks the back door and everyone floods into the house.

Veronica is rooted to the spot, her surfboard abandoned at her feet, where Backup looks to her for more direction. Logan props his board against the house and is following everyone in when he turns back to Veronica.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I think we have different definitions of that word, Logan.” 

“What am I supposed to do, kick them out? They’re my friends.”

Even more people arrive, car doors slamming and insipid giggling ensuing. “Sounds good to me, but it’s your house.”

Logan’s beckoned inside once more, and with a sigh, Veronica follows.

*

Midnight comes and goes, and the party rages on. Veronica’s hair is still salty and dried out, up in a ponytail that will probably keep its form even without the elastic. Earlier she’d quickly changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and gratefully hung out with Mac and Cassidy for a couple of hours. 

She finds her resentment grows as the hours pass. She takes Backup for another walk, hoping that when they return, everyone will have magically disappeared. But music is still blasting when she nears the house again, and she plops down on the beach rather than go back in. 

It’s not long before Logan approaches. “What are you doing all alone out here?”

“I’m not alone,” she says, motioning to Backup digging in the sand nearby.

“Come on, have some fun. Have a drink.”

She laughs bitterly, not looking up at him. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to have some fun? What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem? Aside from the fact that your house has been invaded by the enemy?”

“Look, they’re my friends. They were worried about me, so they came over.”

“Oh, please. They just needed a place to party.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“They have their priorities, Logan.”

“Veronica, they’re not that bad.”

Veronica is up on her feet in a flash. “Yes, they really are. I can barely look at Dick and his pals, let alone want to party with them, okay?” The anger that has been building boils over.

“Look, I know Dick can live up to his name sometimes, but he’s harmless.”

“No, he really isn’t, Logan. But hey, I’m sure he’s a great guy when he’s not on the hunt for his next rape victim.”

“What? Wait.” He shakes his head. “What are you talking about?” 

Veronica realizes with a sinking feeling that she has said too much. It’s not worth digging up the past. “Forget it.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” Logan’s voice is sharp.

“Just go enjoy your party.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Tell me.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“But you did. So talk. What’s this about Dick?”

Sighing, Veronica relents. “Look, when Madison Sinclair wouldn’t sleep with him, he drugged her drink so he could have sex with her. That’s the kind of person Dick is.”

He looks incredulous. “What? How…how do you know this? You and Madison aren’t exactly BFF.”

“I just know,” she says, shrugging.

“Tell me, Veronica.”

She realizes he won’t drop it, recognizes his determination. “Well, it turns out Madison sure was born under the right sign, and she gave her drink to me that night. At Shelley’s party. To Madison’s credit — and I can’t believe I’m actually using that phrase in relation to her — she didn’t know about the GHB.”

“But wait, how do you even know Madison was telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t hear it from her. Look, just forget it.” Veronica turns to go. 

Logan’s hand is firm on her arm. “ _No._ What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Fine, you really want to know?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer, or herself a chance to change her mind. “It was Dick who brought me into the guest bedroom when I was passed out that night.” 

“But…I thought you said Duncan…wait, what are you saying? What did Dick do? _Did he do something?_ ”

Veronica takes a deep breath. “He was doing his brother a favour, trying to help him lose his virginity. Lucky for me, Beaver isn’t a rapist, and he said no. Dick kept pushing, and generously offered to go first to get the ball rolling, but Beaver talked him out of it.”

Logan runs his hand through his hair. “He told you this? Beaver?”

“Yeah. Sean confirmed it, too.” 

“I never thought…” Logan shakes his head and looks lost. “He was my friend. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. There was so much going on with your dad and Duncan, and I just let it go. But after everything…it’s hard to look at Dick these days.” 

“You really think he could do it? You really think he would have?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

Logan starts walking, picking up speed as he nears the porch. With a sweep of his arm, drinks go flying off the deck railing. “Get out! Everyone get the hell out!” He storms into the house, shocked friends in his wake. Veronica hangs back and watches, unsure of what else to do.

The music is silenced and everyone gawks as Logan moves from room to room, ordering his friends out. In the living room, Dick approaches Logan with hands wide. “Dude, relax. Come on, have a drink.”

His arm cocks back and Logan breaks Dick’s nose with a sickening crunch. “Get out of my house and don’t ever fucking come back.”

Dick, on his knees, holds his bleeding nose as a freshman girl simpers over him. “What the fuck, man!”

“I don’t even know you. I thought you were my friend, but you’re nothing. Nothing.”

“Is this because of your bitch girlfriend? You get back with her and suddenly we’re not cool anymore?”

“This is because people like you make me sick,” Logan grits out. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just get out.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you want it! Hope you and your skank are happy.”

Logan’s lip curls into a snarl and he lunges. It takes three guys to pull him off, and when they do, Veronica begins herding people out. Comments are hurled, but she ignores them, just keeps everyone moving. Dick has to be helped out, his face now covered in blood. 

When the last taillights have disappeared, Veronica goes to find Logan. His bathroom door is closed, and she knocks softly.

“There’s no lock anymore.”

She takes this as permission to come in, and opens the door. Logan sits on the side of the tub, dabbing his knuckles with a wet cloth. 

“Here, let me get the first aid kit.” Veronica hurries to the kitchen, sidestepping the plastic cups and bottles strewn everywhere. When she returns, the water in the tub is running, Logan waving his hand back and forth under the stream.

“Logan?”

He doesn’t answer, just pulls up the lever for the shower and steps in, his clothes still on. He stands under the water, eyes closed as Veronica waits by the sink. She thinks maybe he’s in shock or something, and wonders if her dad would know what to do. 

The water is soothingly warm, and Veronica’s quickly soaked, her jeans heavy as they stick to her legs. Logan hugs her close, and as she wraps her arms around his back, her eyes drift shut. The water thrums down, drowning out everything.


	8. Chapter 8

Veronica isn’t sure what wakes her, but as she pokes her head out of Logan’s room, she hears low voices. Judging by the amount of sunlight streaming in through the windows, she figures it’s around nine, and is pretty sure that she can make out the timber of her father’s voice. She ducks into the guest room to quickly change into her own clothes, leaving Logan’s t-shirt and boxers on the floor. 

In the bathroom, she splashes water on her face and remembers his breath on the back of her neck, her hair wet against the pillow as exhaustion claimed them. When she looks halfway presentable, Veronica heads towards the voices.

Her father and Logan sit at the dining room table, mugs of coffee in front of them. Logan is nodding at something her dad says when they notice her arrival. 

“Hey honey.” 

“Hi Dad. Did everything go okay? Have a good night?”

“Yeah, everything went fine. It all worked out. Not as exciting as your night, I’d imagine.”

“Our night?” Veronica’s not sure what to say.

“Logan was cleaning up when I got back. Looked like one heck of a party, but I think we got it all now.” 

Veronica suddenly remembers the party remnants that had littered the house. She glances around and can see no trace. “Wow. You guys worked fast.”

“Yep, we make one hell of a clean-up crew.” Keith smiles and takes a swig of coffee.

Logan hasn’t said a word, just watches her with an expression she can’t decipher. She thinks he seems okay, but doesn’t want to ask in front of her dad. “Sorry I slept in. I would have helped.”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, there’ll be plenty more work to do. But first we’ve got to go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“I want to get some stuff.” Logan’s voice sounds steady. He motions vaguely with his hand. “You know, for the house.”

“Stores will be opening soon, so you’d better grab a bite to eat before we go.” Keith nods towards the box of donuts sitting on the kitchen counter.

Veronica smiles and picks out a chocolate glazed. “Ah, the breakfast of champions.”

Her father drives them to the shopping district, and he and Veronica wage a war over the radio. Veronica cries out in mock horror when Keith insists on listening to an old — not that there is any other kind — Blue Oyster Cult song. As Keith bangs the steering wheel and sings, Veronica glances back again at Logan. She feels like something has changed; that a turning point has come and gone. He stares out the window, and doesn’t look over.

*

Veronica scrubs her hands, the paint washing away down the kitchen drain. With the living room and main hallway now a buttery yellow, they just have to wait for it to dry before unpacking the new furniture. 

“You missed a spot.” 

Veronica inspects her hands closely, but Logan reaches out and wipes her cheek. For some reason, she blushes. “Oh, thanks.” He runs his finger under the water for a moment before he swipes at her skin again.

The doorbell rings, making them both jump. “I guess dinner’s here,” he says as he leaves to answer the door. Veronica turns the tap off and wipes her hands on a paper towel before she goes onto the deck to call her dad and Backup in.

Even though the living room is wet with paint, Logan takes the pizza in there. The TV and couch are close together in the middle of the room, and he pushes the couch a few feet back to give them some room. Veronica brings in three of Logan’s new Williams Sonoma square plates and the roll of paper towels. 

She sits between Logan and her dad on the couch and they watch an old rerun of _The Simpsons_. After Backup devours his bowl of dog food in the kitchen, he lies by their feet, looking up with pleading eyes. 

It’s been a long day, but productive. Satisfying. She thinks Logan seems okay. Quiet, but different somehow. Resolved, maybe. 

“Anyone need another soda?” Keith gets up, collecting their plates as Logan tosses Backup one of his crusts.

“Logan, no people fo—”

The words die in her mouth as Veronica sees Liam Fitzpatrick’s face on the TV screen. The newsflash anchor intones, “Five members of the Fitzpatrick crime family were arrested on multiple drugs and weapons charges in an early morning raid today. Sheriff Don Lamb said that the amount of evidence seized was overwhelming, and the suspects are being held without bail. For more on this story, tune into Neptune’s most trusted evening news.” 

A commercial for cat food comes on as Veronica and Logan look at each other before both peering up at Keith. “You weren’t doing surveillance last night,” Veronica says. 

Keith just smiles. “I guess Sheriff Lamb did something right for once, huh?” He walks out, the plates stacked in his hands, Backup on his heels, begging for more scraps. 

Veronica and Logan sit in stunned silence, staring at the TV until Logan says, “How long do you think he’ll get?”

“Long enough.” She smiles grimly. “Hello, community soap.”

Logan takes this weird breath — part sigh, part sob, part something else. She knows it’s probably her imagination, but when Veronica glances over, he looks lighter somehow. 

*

Logan drives Veronica to school in the morning and as they get out of the Xterra, she can feel the eyes of many. Can already hear their whispers. Mac must have heard what happened, because she comes out of her way to say hi. She smiles at Logan, which Veronica can tell makes him nervous, but he smiles back.

They go to separate classes and Veronica wonders if Logan and Dick will have made up by lunchtime. She sits with Wallace and Jane at their usual table, and pretends she’s not looking for Logan among all the other faces. 

“So I hear your boyfriend and his fists of fury were in full effect the other night. You know, at the party we weren’t invited to.”

“First off? He’s not my boyfriend. Secondly, it wasn’t Logan’s party — Dick and a bunch of 09ers showed up very much uninvited. If I ever have a party, you know you’d better be the first one to RSVP, Fennell.” 

“He’s not your boyfriend, huh?” Wallace’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No, I told you—”

Jane pipes up, “So then why is he coming this way?” 

Veronica looks up just in time to see Logan walk over holding a cafeteria tray. He stops and looks at them apprehensively. Veronica opens her mouth, but Wallace beats her to it.

“Hey man. Grab a seat.” 

And _that’s_ why Wallace is her BFF. Logan sits down and tells Jane it’s nice to meet her when she introduces herself. He pushes his sloppy joe around his plate and Veronica refrains from making a comment about how he’s not eating his usual take-out. Dick and his cronies hold court at their usual table, and laugh loudly in the most obnoxious way possible. Logan ignores them.

Jane babbles on about the behind-the-scenes drama on the yearbook committee and they all listen gratefully, nodding and smiling in the right places. Veronica’s about to ask about the possibility of getting out of doing her graduate write-up when she sees Weevil. He nods, motioning her over, but she just smiles and shakes her head.

Weevil glares for a few seconds and mouths some words she can’t make out. She scrunches up her face in response, and before rolling his eyes dramatically, he makes his way over. He stops a couple of feet away. “Your lip reading skills need serious work.”

“Sorry, I usually rely on bugs.” She waves her hand towards the bench. “Have a seat.” 

Weevil glances over both his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, no one cares about what you do now. You don’t have any friends left last time I checked.” Wallace says. 

Weevil sits down with an exaggerated sigh. “Thank you, I feel so much better.”

Wallace grins. “Anytime, man.” 

“So what’s up?” Veronica asks.

Weevil raises his chin in Logan’s directions and says, “My grandmother got a call about our old house. Seems someone put the deed in her name and paid off the mortgage.”

Logan glances up from his cold food and shrugs lightly. “There were way too many roaches and rodents living there for my taste.”

“Yeah, well. She says you should come over for _pollo en mole_ one night because you’re too skinny.”

This gets a smile from Logan. “And the wacky sitcom hijinks ensue.”

Jane giggles awkwardly and they all kind of look at each other, no one apparently knowing what else to say. 

Logan lifts his fork, meat product sliding off onto his plate with a disturbing thwap. “What do you think is actually in this? Other than Soylent Green, of course.”

They debate the subject for a while, finally agreeing that no animals were harmed in the creation of lunch.

*

A brisk wind blows off the water, and Veronica wishes she had brought a warmer hoodie. But it’s still a nice night, and the smell of grilling meat on Logan’s new barbecue, a big black and chrome monstrosity that her father had picked out rather gleefully, is enticing. They all stand on the deck, since none of them remembered to buy chairs the day before. 

“I have to get some more clothes, so I’ll just go at lunch to get them. Dad, do you have a lot of work in the office? I’ve got a spare period in the afternoon.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. You do some studying. You need to catch up,” Keith says, with a slight glare.

“Don’t worry, catching up will be cake. A piece of it, even.”

“You should go home.” The words come out in a rush, and Logan takes a long breath afterwards. 

Veronica smiles, tries to breeze past it. “I am, at lunch. Please try to keep up.” She snaps her fingers playfully.

“You know what I mean.” 

“Logan—”

“You can’t stay here forever.”

She looks to her father, but he simply watches Logan silently. 

“Logan, we’re going to stay here as long as…as long as it takes.”

He laughs. “Come on, Veronica. You guys have to get back to your lives.” 

“Logan—”

“I talked to Dr. Jensen. I’m seeing her twice a week for now. Look, it’s not…it’s not easy.” He takes another deep breath. “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.” He looks at Keith, who nods in acknowledgement. 

“No, wait.” Veronica turns to her father. “Dad, you can’t just agree with this. It’s too soon.” 

“Honey, he’s right. It’s time.” 

Logan clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. “And maybe you guys could come back and visit sometimes, or whatever.”

Keith clamps a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Son, this is the King of Barbecues. Trust me, I’ll be back.” They share a smile.

Veronica tries to smile too, but instead takes a swig of Diet Coke. They eat dinner in front of the TV, as usual. The Padres take an early lead, and she only snaps back to attention whenever her father elbows her in the side in his excitement. During the top of the eighth, Logan twines their fingers together on the couch, and Veronica holds on tightly.

She and her father leave later like it’s nothing, like they had only been over for dinner and a ball game. Veronica’s not sure what she expected, but they just say their goodbyes and get in their cars and are gone. 

At home, her father hugs her close and tells her that everything will be okay. She stares up at the ceiling in bed and contemplates driving back over to check on him, just in case. It’s after midnight when her cell phone rings, and she dives for her bag, answering breathlessly.

“Hello?”

“Go to sleep, Veronica.” 

She exhales. “How do you know I wasn’t sleeping already?”

He laughs softly.

“Logan, I’m just…worried.”

“I’m okay. It was a good day.”

“Yeah.”

“So I’ll see you in the morning. You coming by before school?”

“Bright and early.”

“’Night, Veronica.”

“Goodnight.”

She waits until there’s a dial tone before pressing the off button. She closes her eyes, the phone resting on her pillow as she finally drifts away.

*

It’s not very long before Logan has a bad day. Veronica drives to his place as the sun is inching up over the tops of the houses, and she rolls down her window to catch the fresh air as she hums along to Rilo Kiley.

The doorbell echoes, and she waits. When he doesn’t come, she rings again, anxiety beginning to take form in the pit of her stomach. After a third ring, she’s calling him on her cell, muttering under her breath, urging him to pick up. She pounds on the door, and is about to go to his bedroom window when he appears. 

“Can’t you take a fucking hint? I’m not going to school today, so just go.”

“What happened? Are you okay?” He looks bedraggled in his t-shirt and sweatpants, not to mention hung over. She can smell the booze on him still.

“I’m not in the mood for school. I’ll see you later.” He starts to shut the door, but Veronica’s foot is faster and she pushes her way inside. 

“Logan, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say. I just don’t feel like going anywhere. I don’t feel like seeing anyone. That includes you. So do us both a favour and just go.”

“And leave you here to — what, drink yourself to death?”

“Oh Jesus, stop being so melodramatic. So I had a few drinks. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is.”

“Logan, I just want….” She sighs.

“What? What do you want?” She wishes he were angry, but he’s not. He’s just weary.

“I want you to be okay.”

He runs his hand through his hair before his arm flops back to his side. “I want to be okay, too.” His eyes glisten, and he wipes them impatiently, shaking his head. “But you can’t be here every second. I need to be alone sometimes. I need to get drunk and throw things and be…you know. Whatever. So you have to trust me.” He grimaces slightly and looks away, like he’s remembering something he’d rather forget.

Veronica remembers too, and she takes hold of his hand. “I do trust you. _I do_.”

“So go to school. And maybe you can come by after, or something.”

“I will.” She hesitates for a moment before pressing a kiss to his cheek. She turns, and his arms reach out and wrap around her.

“Take good notes in English,” he whispers. 

*

Saturday morning dawns bright and beautiful, and Veronica swings her hair up into a ponytail before heading out. She still can’t surf worth a damn, so it’s likely she and Logan will spend the day in the ocean. Halfway to his place she curses her forgetfulness and stops by the drugstore for some sunblock. 

Every time she approaches his house, her breath catches in her throat. She wonders if it always will — if this is a Pavlovian response that will never be unlearned. She rings the doorbell and waits. He doesn’t come, and her lungs start burning.

A dog barks from close by, and Veronica walks around the house, peering into any windows she can as she goes. She rounds the corner onto the beach and exhales in a rush. Logan looks up from where he sits on the edge of the deck, his feet in the sand, a small dog running back and forth excitedly as Logan waves a stick.

“Who’s this?”

Logan shrugs. “I don’t know, it showed up yesterday and won’t leave.” 

Veronica glances at Backup’s spare food dish beside the back door. “Are you feeding him?”

“Well I don’t want it to be hungry or whatever.”

“You know, dogs really shouldn’t eat people food.”

“So you’ve told me. I picked up something at the store.” He tosses the stick, and the dog goes bounding after it. Veronica sits down beside Logan and kicks her shoes off.

The dog returns and drops the stick at Logan’s feet. Veronica puts her hand out, and he is soon licking her enthusiastically. “Is he a beagle, maybe?”

They both eye the dog critically. “Maybe. Beagle and….” Logan cocks his head, brow furrowed.

“Pug?” 

The dog pants up at them enthusiastically. “So it’s a puggle,” Logan declares.

“I think it just might be. He didn’t have any tags?”

“Nope. Seemed he’d been wandering the beach for a long time, he didn’t look so hot.”

Veronica tosses the stick and the dog sprints after it. “He looks okay now; all shiny and new.” 

Logan shrugs. “I took him to the vet to make sure he was okay, or whatever. They cleaned him up and gave him shots and stuff.”

She tries to keep the smile from her face, but fails utterly. “So what are you going to call him? Assuming it is indeed a him?”

“It is, but I’m not keeping him.”

Veronica’s eyebrow arches up. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m just…I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Right. So now you’re just going to set him free? Give him away?”

“Look, I don’t know.” The puggle returns and jumps up, paws on Logan’s knees, tongue wagging.

“I think you should name him…Steve.”

“Steve? What kind of a crappy name is that?”

“What do you care? You’re not keeping him, remember?”

Logan rolls his eyes and tosses the stick again, muttering under his breath.

*

As Veronica walks to calculus class on Monday afternoon, she hears snatches of people’s conversations. The words “PCH,” “Logan,” and “fight” stick out the most. Bypassing the calculus room, she heads straight for the principal’s. She’s almost there when raised voices from the nurse’s office grab her attention. 

Inside, the nurse stands between Logan and Hector while they scream obscenities over and around her. Veronica breaks it up, and grabbing some supplies, tells the nurse she’ll tend to Logan. He’s all coiled anger and frustration as she leads him into the girls’ bathroom, slapping up the out of order sign she always keeps in her binder. 

“Logan, calm down.”

“No, I don’t want to calm down. That guy is a fucking piece of shit.”

“No argument here. Now hop up and stay still.”

Logan paces back and forth in front of the sinks until Veronica blocks his path. With a long-suffering sigh, he sits on the counter and extends his hand, knuckles split and bloody.

“Sometimes I just can’t stand those people,” he sneers.

Veronica dabs the iodine on his cuts none too gently. “I assume by _‘those people,’_ you mean bikers.”

“Oh god, whatever, Veronica. Do you always have to be so fucking politically correct?”

She grits her teeth. “It’s not about being politically correct.”

“Sure it is,” he snorts. “Because the truth hurts.”

Veronica wraps a bandage around his hand with jerky movements. “Then do enlighten me. What’s the truth?”

“Truth is, these people come here from Mexico and all they do is become criminals.”

“Oh really? Because last time I checked, you were a criminal, too.”

He shrinks back just enough for her to notice. “Is that what you think? You think I killed Felix?”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t mean—”

He slides off the counter, sidestepping her on his way out. “Whatever.” The door slams shut behind him.

Veronica gives a tardy excuse slip to Mr. Barrick and tries to focus on the problems on the board as she fumes silently. She goes to her next class almost in an act of defiance, and only half listens to a lecture on the depletion of the rain forest.

The final bell rings, and she drives the familiar route to his house. Part of her wants to just go home and make him call her, but the other half wins. She rings the doorbell, waiting to smell a waft of scotch whiskey when he answers. 

Rochester barks loudly inside, and Veronica hears Logan telling him to calm down. When the door swings open, Logan doesn’t seem to be drunk. He wears a ratty t-shirt and old jeans, lime-colored paint splattered onto his big toe. 

Veronica bends down to greet Rochester, who is practically jumping up and down. “Hi, buddy. Did you miss me?” She scratches behind his ears and he kisses her face eagerly. 

Logan says “Hey,” and turns back inside, leaving the door open behind him. Veronica follows him into the kitchen, Rochester circling her. 

Most of the kitchen is covered in drop sheets. “I was just finishing the trim.”

She goes over his handiwork and smiles. “It has a very…margarita feel to it.”

“ _Olé_.”

“Look, I didn’t mean—”

“I dish it. I should be able to take it.” He dips his paintbrush with his injured hand, wincing slightly before climbing back up the mini stepladder, reaching into the corner above the fridge. 

“Well, maybe you should try hanging up your ladle for a while.”

“Yeah, probably.” For a few moments, there’s only the faintest sound of the brush on the wall. 

“We’re going to find a way to clear your name, Logan. I know you didn’t kill Felix — you’re not a murderer. But sometimes you’re a real jackass.”

He smiles ruefully. “That I am.” He puts a finishing touch on the wall and hops off the ladder to survey it. He nods to himself and then asks Veronica, “Wanna help me with the dining room?” 

“I don’t know, what’s in it for me?”

“There are hookers coming over later. They’re bringing cocaine and a pole.”

“Ah, the magic words. All right, you win.”

They paint the dining room a light shade of orange, which Veronica had voted against at Color Your World last weekend. But to her surprise, it works somehow. 

*

Veronica’s arms ache, and if it weren’t for her pride, she would have already given up hours ago. In her opinion, there are much better ways to spend an unexpected, gas-leak-precipitated day off from school. But Logan is paddling beside her, giving her a last-minute pep talk, and she can’t give up now. The wave approaches, and he yells at her to paddle hard. She does, feeling the water swell below her. 

She pops up into a crouch and almost immediately topples off her board, the wave passing her by. When she resurfaces, Logan is straddling his board, waiting.

“Look, I suck at this.” Veronica slides back onto her board and mimics Logan’s position.

“It takes practice, you’ll get it.” 

“Logan, I’ve been practicing all afternoon. Face it: I suck.”

“Okay, so maybe you suck.”

“Hey!” She splashes him. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Well then shut up and start moving, here comes another one.”

Veronica looks over her shoulder and sighs heavily. “Fine, one more try.” She lies down and starts paddling.

“Faster, come on!”

She forces her arms to go just a bit more quickly, her shoulders burning. The wave lifts her board and she pops up, arms out for balance. Then, instead of falling, Veronica feels a surge of power beneath her as she rides the wave towards the shore. The wind rushes in her ears and for a few perfect moments, she feels like she can fly. 

The wave crashes onto the beach and she rolls off her board and onto her feet in the shallows, turning to find Logan riding in another wave. She shouts, “Oh my god! Did you see that?”

Logan grins and starts clapping as he wades towards her. Veronica leaps into his arms, momentarily forgetting that her board is still attached to her ankle. They both lose their balance and go tumbling into the shallow water. 

They sputter and laugh, legs tangled, water in their eyes. Veronica sits up, grinning. “I did it. I, Veronica Mars, surfed a wave. Like, officially.”

Logan smiles back. “Yep, it’s official. You’re a surfer.” 

“Now I know why you do it. I felt so….” 

“Free?”

“Yeah.” She smiles again and throws her arms around him. “Thank you for teaching me. And buying me the surfboard.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, just nods and holds her close. She can feel him breathe her in before he pulls away, looking embarrassed. “We should—”

She kisses him, and he leans back into her with a sigh. Their tongues wind together, lips soft. They both taste like the ocean, salty and cool. Logan cradles her head in his hand and when they take a breath, he presses his forehead to hers. Veronica’s not sure how long they sit there, the water rushing by and receding, over and over, the sun warm on their skin.

Then they’re kissing again, and she’s flying.

*

Logan goes on a bender with Weevil a few days later, and Veronica is forced to do the history presentation alone thanks to their hangovers. They both apologize, but Veronica decides the silent treatment is her most attractive option.

Her father checks in on Logan without having to be asked.

On Saturday morning, she rings Logan’s doorbell at the crack of dawn. Rochester barks madly from within, and Logan finally shuffles to the door. His hair sticks up and he yawns widely. He doesn’t smell of anything except dog.

“It’s like, the middle of the night.”

“I hear the waves are the best first thing. So come on.”

Veronica had heard right, and they surf until the sun shines overhead, and the waves get smaller. Logan cooks her an omelette in his lime-coloured kitchen while Veronica waits, perched on the counter. As he’s pushing the eggs around with a wooden spoon, he says, “I’m really fucked up.”

It’s good to hear him say it. “It would be a miracle if you weren’t.”

“I just don’t want…will you promise me something?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“If you ever need to go…do whatever, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

They eat in front of the TV, watching an old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie that is possibly the stupidest thing ever committed to film. 

“So did you and Weevil have fun the other night?”

“Jesus, how many times do I have to apologize?”

“I’m just asking if you had fun.”

“I guess.” He shrugs and it seems like he’ll say more, but instead he asks, “Wanna play a game?”

“Sure. I rule at Charades.”

Logan gets up and hands her a controller. “Please join me here in the 21st century any time.”

“Oh, you wait, mister. Get ready for ownage.” 

Logan just looks at her and taps her nose. 

Later, her father hums as he carefully monitors the meat grilling on the barbecue. Veronica changes into her jeans and pulls a sweatshirt over her head before going back outside. Logan is playing Frisbee with Backup and Rochester, but mainly with Backup. As Veronica sits down on one of the new chairs, she notices something in her pocket. She reaches in and pulls it out.

A house key rests in her palm, the sun gleaming off it as it sinks towards the horizon. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Keith concentrates on cooking the perfect steaks, his brow furrowed as he pokes a piece of meat. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She gets up and leans against the railing, watching Logan and the dogs play. Rochester nips at Backup’s heels, eager for attention. Logan looks over and smiles uncertainly. 

Veronica puts the key back in her pocket, and motions for the Frisbee as she joins them on the sand.


End file.
